


The Chosen One

by Psychgirl7



Category: Split (2016)
Genre: Adult Content, F/M, Kidnapping, Sexual Tension
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2017-06-09
Updated: 2018-08-12
Packaged: 2018-11-12 06:06:25
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 36
Words: 69,025
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/11155815
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Psychgirl7/pseuds/Psychgirl7
Summary: September 18, 2014 would change Kevin's life forever. She didn't know it, but it would change Abby's life, too. It was the day he met her, and the day he would lose himself to the Horde. With the Beast's plans for a pure world not yet clear, Dennis and Patricia decide to take matters into their own hands.*Story takes place pre-Split, and then transitions to Split, and post-Split.





	1. Kevin

**Author's Note:**

> This idea came to me after watching some of the extra commentaries and interviews from the actors about the movie. James McAvoy had mentioned that some scenes were recorded dozens of times. Some takes were comical, others were sinister, others were dramatic or suspenseful. I thought that I would like to see a mix of these versions of the characters. Additionally, it got me thinking about what happened the day that Kevin ‘went to sleep’ on the bus and the alters took over? I wondered: Did the story of the Beast change and evolve over time? Was there another plan in addition to ridding the world of the impure? This is the result. I don’t own any of the characters from “Split.” Enjoy! It has been years since I have written fanfiction!

“Kevin Wendell Crumb,” the female voice lulled. 

Kevin struggled to open his eyes and felt as if jolts of electricity were coursing through his body.

“Kevin Wendell Crumb,” the voice echoed louder, as if approaching him in a tunnel. 

His lungs ached to take a breath. His heart pounded against his chest. Sweat formed above his brow.

“Kevin Wendell Crumb,” Dr. Fletcher’s speech was plain as day. 

Kevin opened his eyes and gasped. He clutched the cool leather arms of the green chair he was in, the material screeching beneath his perspiring palms. His blurred vision slowly came into focus as he looked at his surroundings. His sight landed on Dr. Fletcher, a petite woman in her 60s, whose facial expression was patient.

“Kevin?” she lightly asked, peering above the glasses that rested low on the bridge of her nose. 

His head was pounding. His throat was dry. He remembered walking into her office and sitting in this chair, but everything between then and now was blank. 

“Dr. Fletcher,” he croaked, rubbing his eyes. “I,” he started, “How long was I gone? What day is it?”

“Not long,” Dr. Fletcher assured him. “It’s still September 18th.” 

“Doctor,” he shook his head, “I’m losing more and more time.” Kevin leaned forward in his seat and rested his elbows on his knees. He clutched his hands together and let them hang in front of his body. Taking another breath, he continued, “It used to be that it was here or there, but now…” he paused.

Dr. Fletcher waited patiently for him to finish. Something was weighing on his mind. Even Barry, one of his alters, could sense it and expressed his concern in today’s session. 

“But now,” Kevin leaned back and rubbed his face, “I go to work and the next thing I know, I’m in the shower, no recollection how I got there. People are coming up to me, talking to me like we’re the best of friends, and I have no idea who they are.” He shook his head and nervously bit on his lip. “I know that you told me it’s normal for someone with my condition to not remember things, but, this is scaring me.” He shook his head and paused for a moment of reflection. Dr. Fletcher looked at him empathetically and waited for him to continue. 

“I did as you suggested,” Kevin looked up at Dr. Fletcher, who raised her eyebrows in curiosity. “I’ve been keeping video diaries. I started out with doing them myself, and then, I found other videos.”

“Other videos?” Dr. Fletcher probed. 

Kevin chuckled nervously, a defense mechanism to hold back his tears. “Do you know how weird it is to see yourself and know it’s not yourself?” he questioned calmly. “To… to see my body and hear someone else’s voice? And some of the things that I… that they… say.” He shook his head in disbelief. “I’m scared.” 

“What is it that scares you, Kevin?”

Kevin licked his lips. “What doesn’t scare me about all this?” he chuckled. “What do you know about The Beast?”

Dr. Fletcher’s smile faded and her ears pushed back, like a dog in fear. “Only what the alters have told me. This is something very recent.”

“What have they told you?” he asked.

“Kevin,” she started.

“Please, Doctor,” he pleaded with worried eyes, “I need to know.” 

Dr. Fletcher considered the appropriateness of answering this question. Seeing his distress and fear, she wondered if her response would help or hinder him. As she repeated the description of the Beast to Kevin, she saw sadness in his eyes. She mostly had bits and pieces of information from his other alters… Barry, Jade, Orwell… stories about a creature with super-human abilities and a desire to create a world in which only the worthy survived. These were stories told to his alters from the two undesirable alters, Patricia and Dennis, about ridding the world of the impure. Stories which, like Kevin, frightened the alters. 

“What do you think it all means?” he asked Dr. Fletcher. “Am I crazy?”

“Of course not, Kevin,” Dr. Fletcher replied. “You have been through trauma. These stories of the Beast somehow serve a purpose for you, through your alters.” 

Kevin shook his head in disbelief. “I don’t see how something so horrible could possibly serve as a purpose for me.” 

“That can be something that we continue to explore,” Dr. Fletcher suggested. “Just as we have explored the meaning and purpose behind all the identities that have been identified. Each one has a special purpose, a duty to fulfill, so to speak. Whether it is something currently or something from your past, each identity developed to help you, to protect you.” She saw the muscles in his jaw tighten and then relax before proposing, “Perhaps, the Beast represents something from your life. Maybe a person, maybe a desire, maybe an internal battle of wills. The Beast is symbolic.” 

Kevin let out a sigh of relief and smiled nervously. “Dr. Fletcher, I don’t know what I’d do without you. Hearing your interpretation makes me feel a little better. I hadn’t considered that maybe it represented something from my past. I guess, when I was watching those videos, the way they talked, it sounded like it was inside me. Like it was a part of me.” He drummed his fingers on the arm of the chair as he took her analysis into consideration. “Some people have demons… maybe I have beasts,” he chuckled. 

Dr. Fletcher smiled warmly, her crow’s feet more apparent than years before. 

“We will pick up on this at our usual time next week,” she jotted down a few brief notes. “Before you leave, I must ask you: How do you feel? I’d hate for you to leave here in distress.” She placed the pen down on her notepad and eyed him with concern. 

Kevin was scared, this much was true, but Dr. Fletcher comforted him. Yes, he had been through trauma. And yes, they have identified what these alters mean and do for him. Nearly two-dozen. Jesus. Two dozen alters. Maybe she was right. Perhaps the Beast isn’t a literal beast, but a figurative one. Surely, there couldn’t be enough room for another alter in there. Kevin could already think of a few beasts in his life: mainly his mother, people who bullied him in childhood, people who have taken advantage of his kindness and timidity. He, himself, felt like a beast at times. A freak. He knew he had an ally in Dr. Fletcher, regardless of how alone he felt or how insane these stories sounded. She was such a sweet lady. Her concern was genuine. It wasn’t fear that something would happen to her counseling license if something were to happen to him; it was genuine concern and care for his wellbeing. 

He nodded his head, “I feel better.”

Dr. Fletcher eyed him doubtingly. She suspected that he was being dishonest. She could still sense his distress. 

Kevin, recognizing this look, held his hands in front of him defensively and said, “Honest.” 

She smiled, deciding not to press the matter. “Alright,” she agreed as she pushed herself out of her chair. 

Kevin smiled and followed her to the door. 

As she opened the door for him to leave, she invited, “Call me or send me an email if you need anything in the meantime. You know I’m always available, day or night.” 

“I will,” he smiled. Kevin gently placed his hand on her upper arm as a gesture of gratitude and reassurance. “Thanks for today, Dr. Fletcher.” 

“Of course,” she sweetly smiled and nodded. 

Kevin walked out of her office and stopped to zip his jacket as she closed the door behind him. He pulled out a knit cap from his jacket pocket and shook it to regain its shape. He smoothed down his hair. As he placed the cap on his head, he saw a little old lady out of the corner of his eye open up her apartment door and stare at him apprehensively. He kindly smiled and raised his hand in a still wave to acknowledge her presence. Without any further expression, she slammed the door shut. He scoffed in disbelief as he heard the deadbolt click and a chain lock slide into place on the other side of the door. 

Maybe he WAS a beast.


	2. The Bus

Kevin jogged down the cement steps with his hands in his jacket pockets. The air was cooler now, but the sun still felt good on his face. He inhaled the city air, smelling a mix of plants and flowers sitting on the neighboring steps and exhaust from vehicles passing by. He admired the bright green leaves on the trees as he walked down the street, feeling somewhat saddened that they would be changing colors and falling to the ground within the next month. Autumn was such a depressing time. The cooler weather, the shorter days, the dreariness of bare trees and gray skies. At least during the summer he heard the welcomed sound of children laughing and squealing in delight. With the approaching colder months, he knew it would be much quieter at work. When it was too quiet, he was alone with his thoughts. The surrounding noises were a welcome distraction.

He arrived at the bus stop and checked his watch. It would still be another ten minutes before the bus would be here. He sat on the edge of the bench and folded his hands together, resting his elbows on his knees. He hung his head and pondered.

He thought about the session and Dr. Fletcher’s words. Mostly, he thought about how he couldn’t remember eating breakfast yesterday morning. He couldn’t remember coming home from work the day before that. He couldn’t remember who the hell that person was a week ago who came up to him and started asking questions about how he’s been and what he’s been doing since they last saw each other. His knee began to bounce nervously as he feared that he was losing control of himself. So many of his alters, as Dr. Fletcher called them, talked about this Beast thing as if it were a real monster. The ideologies that he had learned of were frightening; certainly never something that he would ever dream of himself. A world in which only the pure survived and thrived. What is pure? And what happens to those who are not pure?

 “Cameron Matthew Miller!” he heard a woman yell across the street.

His head shot up as if it had been spring loaded. He saw a woman across the street grab— what he presumed to be— her 5 year-old son’s hand and yank him back to her. The little boy cried as she swatted his behind and continued to yell at him for running ahead of her.

A flashback played through his mind of his own mother screaming his full name, angry that he had dropped a glass of milk on the living room floor. She had smacked him so hard that his nose began to bleed and she knocked a tooth loose. Both legs now bounced and he could not stop his hands from shaking in front of him as he came back to reality. Holding his hands together did nothing to relieve the jitteriness. The woman and her crying son were now further up the street, but their impact was still very much present. Kevin leaned back on the bench and smoothed his cap over his head as he audibly exhaled the breath he had been holding out of habit when he heard someone yelling.

The brakes of the bus squealed as it came to a stop in front of him. The door swung open, and the bus driver looked at him expectantly. Kevin took in a deep breath and stood from the bench, his legs feeling wobbly like Jell-O, but not showing.

The bus was about half full, and it was quiet. He glanced at the other passengers as he spotted the empty seat all the way in the back, away from everyone else. He leisurely made his way to the back of the bus, eyes gazing from left to right as he walked. Most people were minding their business, likely tired after a long day at work. A woman was reading a novel, another one behind her was obviously listening to music too loud, as Kevin could hear the muffled tones of a punk rock band as he passed her. A man was texting on his cell phone, another one resting his eyes as he leaned against the window, and yet another reading today’s newspaper.

Kevin noticed two younger women sitting towards the back, one blonde and one brunette. The brunette one leaned over and whispered something to the blonde which resulted in them erupting into fits of laughter and hushed hums. Their low-cut blouses left little to the imagination, and Kevin quickly looked away as he saw that the blonde had caught him just as he glanced at her visible cleavage.

As he approached closer, he noticed that the blonde on the end had crossed her leg so that it was hovering in the aisle. Her toned leg wasn’t blocking his way to the back, but it certainly did alter his train of thought. The red stiletto gave the illusion that her leg was as long as the day. Her pencil skirt fit tightly at her knees, which seemed like it would have been uncomfortable to sit in the position that she was sitting. His eyes trailed up to her silken, red blouse and hovered a second too long at her cleavage again before averting his eyes to her face.

She looked at him through thick lashes, and he suddenly felt extremely self-conscious and embarrassed. She bit her bottom lip seductively and twirled her gold-chain necklace in front of her cleavage, slyly unbuttoning one more button to allow more visibility of her plump chest. He never had the confidence to talk to women like her. Women with pouty pink lips, long silky hair, and enough confidence for the whole room.

“Excuse me,” Kevin quietly said as he moved more to his left to avoid brushing against her foot as he walked by.

“Sure,” she replied in a kittenish voice, pushing her shoulders back and just barely moving her foot out of his way.

He breathed a sigh of relief once she was behind him. He closed his eyes and blushed as he heard the two women giggle and the one said, “You’re so bad.” He hated being the butt of a joke, and no matter how often it happened, he never did get used to it.

As the bus proceeded to the next stop, Kevin was made vastly aware that he had nothing to occupy himself for the duration of the ride. The two women kept stealing glances, giggling, and waving with their fingers. Kevin felt annoyed with their constant teasing, but enlightened them anyway by giving a brief nod when they waved. Perhaps if he seemed unfazed, they would give up.

At the next stop, enough people got on to fill the bus almost completely. Kevin’s heart pounded against his chest, and he could feel it in his ears as he felt trapped in a sea of people. He realized that, soon, someone would have to sit next to him. His leg began to bounce again. Sweat started to form on his brow and in his palms. He quickly wiped the bead of sweat away with the back of his hand and rubbed his palms against the knees of his pants as he saw a young woman, about 20 years old, approach him with a friendly, closed-mouth smile… the kind one gives someone to acknowledge them without wanting to speak to them. Wordlessly, she sat next to him and adjusted the strap of her bag as she swung it around to rest on her lap.

She smelled heavenly. A mix of vanilla and honey filled his nostrils as she brushed her brown hair behind her left shoulder, sending a waft of her sweet scent flying at him. His body involuntarily reacted, causing him to sit up straighter and his breathing to become short and shallow. He wanted to look at her, to talk to her, but his self-esteem had already been beaten down. He peeked at her through his peripheral vision. Her straight brown hair fell to just above her breasts, which were modestly covered in a graphic tee. She wore minimal makeup on her face, just enough to enhance the color of her blue eyes and pink lips. She was pretty, not a raving beauty, but still out of his league. His eyes traveled down her bare arms to the delicate fingers grasping the edges of her shoulder bag. Her bright red nail polish was chipped and imperfect. This made him feel a little less self-conscious, as he considered that she is likely more accepting of flaws than the two women he had encountered earlier.

“You’re in my seat,” a gruff voice said from above him.

Kevin looked up at a man in his mid-twenties. He looked like a punk. He had shoulder length hair that was wet and slicked back with sweat. A duffle bag was slung over his shoulder. His shirt appeared to be three sizes too small in an effort to make his muscles look bigger. He smacked his gum between his teeth, his square jaw tensing with every chew.

“I’m sorry?” Kevin said, confused.

“You’re in my seat,” he repeated with dominance.

“Yeah,” the girl beside Kevin spoke up, “he was sitting there before you got on. Find another seat.”

Kevin was taken aback that she spoke up. No one had ever defended him before.

“This isn’t your business, bitch,” the man looked at her and leaned forward in an intimidating manner.

“This isn’t your bus,” she leaned forward, matching his move sternly before finishing with, “bitch.”

Kevin’s heart was beating faster and he felt panicked. He wanted to speak, but his voice hitched in his throat. His lungs were aching for a breath, but he couldn’t inhale or exhale. He pushed down on his knee in an effort to stop his leg from bouncing, but his attempt was fruitless. This was too much. The session, the loss of time, the woman yelling, the girls flirting, the man intimidating…

“Men are talking here, sweetheart,” he said condescendingly.

"You could’ve fooled me,” the girl retorted.

The man, ignoring her, looked at Kevin and asked, “Do you let your girlfriend handle everything for you? You too much of a pussy?”

Kevin couldn’t talk. He felt lightheaded, and his eyes were heavy. The man’s voice began to fade from Kevin’s hearing. His vision became blurry and started to go black.

“What’s the matter with you? I’m talking to you,” the man raised his voice. “Hey,” the man reached forward to poke Kevin in the chest.

Dennis suddenly came into consciousness in Kevin’s body, and he grabbed the man’s extended finger before he had the chance to touch him. He bent his finger back, and the man’s knees seemingly became weak as he lowered his body and winced in pain.

The girl leaned forward and said, “Get the hell out of here.”

As if on cue, Dennis released the man’s finger with a rough push. The man, defeated, walked towards the front of the bus and slammed himself down in a seat, never looking back.

The girl chuckled and looked at Dennis and said, “Remind me to never mess with you.”

 _She’s making fun of you,_ Dennis thought.

Dennis looked ahead with a stern expression on his face. His breathing was uneven; he was still angered at the man up front.

“Are you okay, sir?” the girl asked him.

He quickly looked at her and she flinched back in response, his expression somewhat scary.

“Yes,” he said. He looked down at her shirt, at her chest, then back at her sparkly blue eyes. “Thank you.” He looked toward the front of the bus again.

“Some people walk around acting like the world owes them something,” she referred to the man with whom they had just interacted.

“The world DOES owe some people,” Dennis stated matter-of-factly in a deep voice. The world certainly owed him for his suffering, for Kevin’s suffering. _She has no idea what the world owes me,_ he thought.

The girl smiled, “Naaah.” He looked at her, stunned by her bold disagreement. “The world was here first. It doesn’t owe anyone a damn thing. If you want something, you have to earn it, work for it. You have to take it.” She raised her eyebrows. “The world isn’t going to give anyone jack shit.”

He looked into her eyes as he let her words sink in. His eyes wandered down to her full lips. He already knew she was brazen with her words. He wondered what else that mouth could do. He rubbed the back of his head, a nervous tic to try and distract himself from his own polluted thoughts.

“I’m Abby,” she extended her hand.

Dennis looked down at her hand and then forward again. “Dennis,” he responded brusquely.

Abby retracted her hand, taking the hint. “Not a big talker,” she noted, “I get it. The city is full of weird people, and you never know what kind of dirty deeds they’ve committed. For all you know, I could have someone locked up in my basement.” She giggled, “Or for all I know, you do.” He looked at her, not a hint of humor on his face. Her smile steadily diminished to an uncomfortable smirk, “Just kidding. Sorry.”

His jaw tensed as his eyes slowly looked down at her fingers. The chipped nail polish made his stomach turn in knots. He looked past her fingers at the rips in the knees of her jeans, exposing her milky white skin. Typically this imperfection in one’s clothing would upset him, but it left him desiring more. His eyes leisurely trailed back up her legs, to her hands, up her smooth arms, to her well-endowed chest, her slender neck, and the sharp angle of her jaw. She was facing forward at this point, taking his silence as a cue to disengage. For some reason, he wanted her. He felt his animalistic desires that had been pent up for so long start to come to the surface. Her looks and her feistiness were enticing, and he felt the need to educate her about her lack of awareness of the world’s debts to him and others like him. The way she made fun of him angered him; but, at the same time, the way she defended Kevin without knowing anything about him made him like her. Kevin liked her. Although Dennis viewed Kevin as weak and typically poor at decision making, this was one exception he was willing to make.

The bus came to a halt, the brakes squealing beneath them. Abby looked at him and smiled, cocking one eyebrow at his mysteriousness; he continued to stare at her face, unchanged in his demeanor. She was unaware of the adulterated thoughts he was having about her.

“See ya around, big guy,” she offered a farewell, exiting through the front of the bus.

Dennis made a mental note of the bus stop and crossed his arms as he continued his journey home, Abby taking over his thoughts.


	3. The Plan

 

The next few weeks were spent preparing. Dennis learned everything about Abby that he could. She attended university. She worked at a night club, surrounded by the worst filth on this earth. Dennis struggled to remain composed every night he went there to watch her. The ignorant swine that brushed against him, laughing and drinking and grinding on each other, as if not a care in the world existed, repulsed him to his core.

He watched her from afar, memorized her schedule, her route to and from work, school, and home. He became obsessed with her. He had this feeling in the pit of his stomach and in his loins that would not go away. It remained with him every time she was in his sight. It excited him, in a way, to know that he watched her and she was completely oblivious. It was intimate; she was exposed. Watching someone when they don’t know they’re being watched tells you a lot about that person, about their character. He felt comforted in his observations that she maintained her feistiness when confronted by wrongdoers and her compassion when confronted by beggars on the street. The thrill of the possibility of getting caught, of being seen, gave him a euphoric rush every time he went one more night undetected. It furthered his belief that to the rest of the world, he and the others were nothing. They were invisible. This was something that would change. The world would see just how powerful they could be.

 ------------------------------------------------------------- 

“Dennis,” Patricia said as she stood in the spare room in which the side wall was now almost fully covered in new drywall. She looked to her left and saw a newly installed bathroom where there had once been a walk-in closet area. “What are you up to?”

“There’s a purpose for her,” Dennis said, examining the work that he had so far completed. He wiped his neck with a yellow handkerchief and then folded it up and placed it back in his pocket. “She needs to be here.”

“How do you know? What has He said to you?” Patricia questioned his motives.

“He didn’t have to say it,” Dennis explained, “I felt it.”

“Dennis, what is this plan? I’m worried. You’ve never been this secretive before.”

“I’m not meaning to be,” Dennis began to retrieve his tools for the night and organized them neatly in the corner, out of the way. “It wasn’t clear what her purpose was… but, it was clear that we need her here.”

“Is she pure?” Patricia questioned with reservation.

“I don’t know,” Dennis rubbed the back of his head, reminded of the only interaction he had personally had with her on the bus. “I can’t tell. She’s different.”

“Different how?” Patricia continued her interrogation.

Dennis sighed, hating to be doubted.

“Dennis,” Patricia’s British accent became more harsh and firm. “Is this really something for the Beast’s benefit, or your own?”

Dennis stopped organizing his tools and sat crouched for a moment as he wondered, himself, what purpose she would serve. It was true, he did want her for himself. However, there was also this voice in his head that kept screaming at him: _Her….her… her…._ She was the first person, in a long time, who had been kind to Kevin, expecting nothing in return. Yet, she also seemed so self-assured that Dennis was uncertain if she had ever struggled with anything in her life.

“Dennisssss,” Patricia said in a reprimanding tone.

“It’s something that will benefit all of us, I think.” Dennis resumed tidying the area. “You weren’t there, you wouldn’t understand.”

“I sure hope you know what you are doing,” Patricia said in a near condescending tone. “The Beast hasn’t even fully revealed himself and his plans for a pure world. I’m curious as to why you think you have the answer.”

“I told you, she’s different.”

“We’re ALL different,” Patricia countered.

“She can help us create a new world,” Dennis offered.

Patricia slowly stood from where Dennis was crouched at his tools. She placed her hands on her hips as she contemplated how this girl could possibly help them. Dennis seemed sure of himself, but she was not yet convinced.

“How?” she was curious. “If you said yourself that you are uncertain if she is pure or impure, how can you be so certain that she can help us create a new world? We don’t even know yet how He plans to accomplish this.”

“I can feel it,” Dennis repeated.

“If you are referring to the feeling you have in your trousers for her, I’m not so convinced that you are thinking clearly enough to make a decision that will impact all of us.” Patricia thought for a moment and considered what she had just said. “Maybe that’s it.”

“Maybe what’s it?” Dennis sighed, humoring her but not really fully interested in what she had to say.

“You said you feel it every time you see her,” Patricia repeated. “None of us have seen her, but maybe if we all get that feeling…”

“What are you getting at?” Dennis became annoyed.

“If she is, indeed, pure, and you, through your communication with the Beast, feel certain that she can contribute to the creation of a new world, a pure world,” she paused and smiled at the thought of it. “Oh, Dennis,” she tittered, her eyes lighting up.

“Get to it,” he demanded, growing impatient.

“Perhaps the feelings you are having are His own desires finally manifesting and coming to the surface. Perhaps, a tangible, physical new creation.”

Dennis rubbed the back of his head, running his fingers through his thick hair and scratching the base of his scalp. “What do you mean?”

Patricia beamed, “A baby, Dennis.”

Dennis’s heart skipped a beat. “What?”

“Oh, Dennis, how I would LOVE a baby,” she gleamed and clasped her hands together against her chest. “A pure mother to produce a pure baby with the Beast, the beginning of a pure populace.” Patricia swayed her body at the thought of motherhood. “We could all raise it, like one, big, happy family,” she continued, “and, the more pure mothers we find, the more we can inhabit this earth with righteousness… the way He intends it to be. Oh, Dennis, you ARE a clever one!”


	4. The Club

 

Abby was exhausted but maintained her smile as she continued to serve mixed drink after mixed drink at the bar. Her eyes were beginning to burn as a mixture of sweat and makeup slowly built up at the corners. The music was so loud she could barely hear the orders being shouted at her from only a mere three feet away. The drunks were out in force tonight. Karaoke night was her least favorite. The sound of tone-deaf singers practically swallowing the microphone and screeching notes that they couldn’t possibly hit on a good night caused her temples to throb. But, karaoke night also tended to be the night that she made the most tips. A helpful pointer from the owner: sing a provocative song with a bit of a provocative dance, and the male patrons will swoon and rush to the bar with dollars in hand.

Abby hated this job, but it was the only thing she could really fit into her busy schedule that would allow her to work only part time and still make enough money to pay for rent and bills. She was so caught up in her duties that she had not noticed the D.J. announce that her performance was next.

“Where’s Abby at?” the D.J. energetically asked into the mic. “Abby, where are you, darlin’? Guys, could we get a spot?”

Abby had just finished handing a man a bottle of beer when suddenly she was blinded by a spot light. She placed her hand above her face to shield her eyes from the harsh brightness.

“There she is!” the D.J. announced. “Folks, give Abby a hand. She’s workin’ hard and lookin’ hot doin’ it!”

The crowd went wild. Men whistled and catcalled, and drunk girls screamed her name and whooped affirmations for a job well done. Dennis scanned the crowd and listened to their reaction. He stood with his arms crossed over his chest, unmoved and silent, leaning against a mirrored pillar situated on a raised platform across from the bar. The club was so crowded that it was impossible to stand anywhere without someone bumping in to someone else. As annoyed as he was to have this happen, his attention was solely focused on her.

Abby smiled and waved her hands in the air.

“Get on up here, babydoll,” the D.J. invited her.

“Go go go. I got ya, babe,” said another female bartender as she patted Abby’s rear end in encouragement to go up to the stage.

The crowd cleared a narrow space for her to walk up front. The D.J. continued to make comments about Abby’s many talents, causing the crowd to go crazy. Two men grabbed ahold of Abby’s arms and used the opportunity of lifting her up to the stage to place their hands on her buttocks. Dennis’s jaw tensed as he watched these two men high-five each other. Abby reached across the D.J.’s setup and took the microphone.

“Wow, thanks, guys,” Abby said as she smoothed the hair that was pulled back into a purple flower clip. A few hollers from the crowd made her quickly finish, “and girls.”

Abby laughed and looked at the D.J., speaking away from the microphone so no one else could hear. The D.J. nodded his head and placed his headphones back up to his ear as he prepared a song for her performance. Dennis stared on in curiosity. He caught himself smirking as he examined her every movement. She held the microphone with two hands and shifted her weight back and forth on her feet, as if trying to settle into the stage. She wore a low-cut tank-top and a name badge above her left breast. Her shorts showed off more leg than what Dennis has seen on the bus, and he got that feeling again. Her makeup was too much for his liking, but he understood that it was a costume for work.

“I want to slow it down a bit,” Abby announced with confidence over the noisy crowd. “This is some baby-making music right here.” The crowd laughed and cheered.

A rhythmic tune started to play followed by a beat that would have been perfect for a striptease. Dennis imagined the possibilities as he observed Abby’s hips begin to sway back and forth to the music. She slowly dipped down at her knees and stood back up again as Alannah Myles’ “Black Velvet” played on.

Dennis pushed himself away from the pillar and took a step toward the railing. He leaned his hands on the cool metal and grasped tightly to hold himself from floating away at the smooth melody of her voice.

The stage lights must have been hot, because he could see glistening beads of sweat starting to form on Abby’s chest. She was glowing beneath the lights, moving as though he were the only one in the room watching her. She seemed to become more confident as the song progressed and the crowd continued to cheer. As she swayed her body, she used one hand to run up and down her outer thigh and side of her torso, barely missing touching her own breast. Dennis hardly breathed at all while he watched her dance and became entranced by the raspy voice she used to sing, so different from the sweet, angelic voice on the bus. It was then that he wondered: _Is she just a good actress?_

“Oh, Dennis,” Patricia said as she stood straight and looked down upon the crowd reacting to Abby’s song and dance. Her eyes landed on Abby performing moves that Patricia would never dream of. “She certainly exhibits stamina.”

Dennis nodded his head and pushed himself away from the railing to head towards the exit as the song came to a close. The crowd roared. As he passed by patrons, they continued to scream, and laugh, and shout for Abby’s performance. Dennis needed to finalize his preparations. He would take her tonight.    

\----------------------------------------------------------------------------------------

 

“I am so freaking tired,” Abby said as she wiped off the counter. She tossed the wet towel in the bucket beneath the bar and said, “I’m beat, girl.”

“Me too,” the other bartender spoke, looking at her watch. “Jesus,” she showed her watch to Abby. “3:10.”

“It’s going to be straight to bed for me,” Abby said as she walked towards the back room that held her belongings. “I’m going to change before I leave. You coming?”

“Yeah,” the girl responded. “I have to talk to Mac first.”

“Okay, I’ll be right back then.”

Abby walked into a back room and retrieved her belongings from a small locker. She changed out of her sweaty clothes and replaced them with a t-shirt, jeans, and a hoodie. She shoved her clothes in a backpack, put on some deodorant, and tied her shoes. She retrieved her cell phone from her bag and checked the messages. Nothing. She sighed and wished that she had people who cared about her. Work, sleep, school, work, sleep, school became a mundane routine. She would have welcomed some interruptions. She placed the phone in her pants pocket. Abby exited the locker room area and walked out front again, adjusting the wide strap of her bag over her shoulder. She saw the other bartender talking with a few of the staff members.

The girl looked over and noticed her. “Ready?” the girl asked, swinging her car keys around her index finger.

“Yeah,” Abby replied. “See you, guys.”

“G’night!” several other staff members called after the girls as they made their way to the back exit.

The cool November air was a harsh difference compared to the humidity inside. Abby and the other girl chatted as they walked down the alleyway to the parking lot that was a block away. Abby pulled her hood up over her head to shield her ears and neck from the cold wind. She picked up speed as she talked to the girl behind her, wanting to get into the car and out of the cold. When the girl didn’t respond, Abby turned around and called out to her.

“Katie?” Abby called. Nothing.

The alleyway was dark. Shadows bounced off the walls in the moonlight. The door they had exited from was already at the far end of the alley. Nothing but a few dumpsters and locked doors were between her and the back exit of the club. Abby narrowed her eyes to allow them to adjust to the dark. A streetlamp flickered and hummed in the distance, but other than that, there were no sounds.

“Katie?” Abby said again, taking a few steps toward where she had just came from. “Come on, Katie, this isn’t funny.” Abby paused to listen. “Katie, I swear to God, if you’re planning on jumping out from behind that dumpster, I’m going to punch you in the face.” Silence.

Abby’s breathing was quiet and shallow. She held onto her shoulder strap tighter as she lightly took steps towards the dumpster. She could walk home. Her apartment was about ten blocks down the street, but she would have felt safer accepting a ride from someone she knows rather than walk all that distance in the dark, alone.

“Katie, come on,” Abby’s voice sounded fearful and annoyed. “You’re scaring me.” Abby took a few steps more toward the dumpster. A few pebbles crunched beneath her feet.

Just then, Katie jumped out from behind the dumpster and yelled, “Boo!”

Abby gasped and let out a short scream before covering her mouth and taking a step back, aware of the amount of noise she made at this time of night. Katie laughed and clapped her hands together twice before pointing at her.

“The look on your face,” Katie laughed.

“You are such a bitch,” Abby laughed and sighed in relief.

“I thought you were going to punch me in the face,” Katie teased as they turned around and continued to walk towards the car. Katie jogged ahead of Abby and turned around, jogging backwards as she poked fun at the situation.

“Yeah, well, I’ll owe you one when you least expect it,” Abby said.

At that moment, a man dressed in dark attire and wearing a surgical mask stepped out from the corner of the building. Abby gasped and took a step back, “Katie!” she shouted.

But, she was too late. The man had already grabbed Katie from behind and sprayed something on her face, causing her body to go limp.

“Help!” Abby shouted as she turned around and ran back down the alley. “Fire!” she shouted, hoping to catch someone’s attention.

She was jerked back by her bag. She freed her shoulder from the strap and took three more steps before her hood was grabbed and she was pulled back again. She screamed for help once more as an aerosol can appeared in front of her face and a bitter spray entered her mouth and nostrils. Her body became limp as her assailant quickly tossed her over his shoulder.

Darkness.


	5. Meeting Dennis

 

Abby's eyes fluttered open, and she saw an uneven stone wall before her. She looked at the wall, trying to think of where she was. It was unrecognizable. Suddenly, she remembered the events— a man in the alleyway— and she sat straight up, swinging her legs over the edge to make contact with the ground. The cot squeaked beneath her movements; it was the only sound in the room.

The room smelled musty and of sawdust. She looked around at the bare walls. There were no windows… just a dim light that buzzed in the corner. Half of the room was covered in drywall, and the other half appeared to be cement. She looked in front of the bed and saw a closed door with light seeping in through the cracks along the edges. She jumped up from the bed and ran to the door, grasping the knob and turning with all her might. It was locked and would not budge.

“Shit,” Abby whispered, feeling panicked and frightened.

Abby felt at her pants pockets for her phone, but it was not there. “Oh my God,” Abby’s eyes began to form tears.

She spotted another room off to the side. She walked over cautiously and stepped inside, feeling along the inside wall for a switch. She flicked the switch and was blinded by an all-white bathroom. White tile floors, white ceramic sink, toilet, and tub. A clear shower curtain hung closed over the tub. A glass vase with a single, yellow flower sat on the back of the sink.

She caught a glimpse of her face in the oval mirror above the sink. Her eye makeup had run, creating dark half-moons beneath her eyes. Her hair was disheveled, and the purple flower clip that once held her hair so nicely in place now hung loosely in a web of tangles. Her eyes and cheeks were red. She was thankful that she was still clothed, but the uncertainty of where she was, and why she was there, terrified her beyond belief. From behind her, she heard the lock _click._

Abby quickly turned around and leaned back against the sink, her palms grasping the rim of it tightly behind her, fearful of what would happen next.

In walked a man dressed in dark slacks and a dark gray, button-down shirt. He stepped forward into the room, staring at the empty bed, before finally turning his head toward the bathroom and making eye contact with her.

Abby’s heart pounded against her chest and her stomach churned. Her ears felt like they needed to pop, the flow of blood coursing through her veins overpowering her hearing like a raging river. Her knees were wobbly, and she was positive that she would fall to the floor if it weren’t for the support of the sink holding her up. Her captor turned his entire body towards her and placed his hands in his pants pockets. He was a handsome man in his mid-thirties, with short, dark hair that was neatly brushed back. He looked familiar, but she couldn’t quite place him.

“Good, you’re awake,” Dennis spoke, his voice deep and flat.

He stared at her form, leaning against the sink, just looking at him. It felt primal. Predator and prey. He licked his bottom lip as his eyes trailed down her five-foot-five-inch body, from head to toe and back up again. He had been disappointed that she was wearing different clothes than what she wore at the club… clothes that covered her desirable curves. He tried to shake the thought from his head.

“Uhh,” he groaned and averted his stare, removing one hand from his pocket and waving his fingers at her for her to come forward.

Abby stood still. When he realized she was not moving, he looked up at her and made eye contact. He held his hand out as if questioning why she wasn’t complying.

“What do you want?” Abby mustered the courage to finally speak, remaining against the sink and holding on to it for dear life.

Dennis’s face was somber. Lowering his hand, he narrowed his eyes at her and tensed his jaw. “I want you,” he looked at her body, “to come here,” he finished, staring at her eyes again.

“Where’s Katie?” Abby feared the worst.

“Who?” Dennis asked, his tone becoming annoyed. “Oh, right,” he rubbed the back of his head. “She’s fine.”

“I want to see her,” Abby said.

Dennis smirked. “That’s not possible.”

Abby swallowed the lump in her throat and grasped the sink tighter. Dennis took a step forward.

“People will be looking for us,” Abby rapidly pointed out.

Dennis stopped and studied her. He knew she had no one. No family in the area. Hardly any friends. Outside of work, she kept to herself and her studies. He had watched her for weeks. Much like him, she was alone.

“They won’t find you,” answered Dennis curtly.

Dennis continued to gradually approach her. She felt trapped and knew she would have to make a move. She glanced at the door behind Dennis that he had neglected to close. She stood a bit taller, considering the possibility that she might actually have a chance to escape. Cautiously, she stretched her arm back and felt for the vase.

“You’re here,” he explained calmly, “for a greater purpose than you could possibly imagine.”

His foot stepped inside the bathroom, and Abby knew she had to act now. She grasped the vase and swung it in front of her, hitting Dennis over the head. The glass shattered.

Dennis yelled and flung his arms protectively in front of his face. Abby threw her weight against him, shoulder into his chest, knocking him out of her way and onto the cold, hard floor. She tripped over his leg and slammed her palms against the floor, immediately launching herself back up to continue her escape. Dennis rolled onto his side and grabbed at the end of her pant leg, but it slipped from his grasp.

Abby felt as if she had a chance when she eluded his grasp. She ran out the door into a second room. She grabbed the knob of that second door, but it did not move. A sharp sensation stung the palm of her hand. When she looked down, she saw a shard of glass poking out of her skin and blood pooling around the wound. She grasped the knob with her other hand, but it was no use. This second door was locked. Frustrated and scared, she pounded her fist once against the door and then turned around.

He emerged in the doorway of the room she had just ran from. Hair on the left side of his head was matted in a mixture of water and blood. A thin line of blood trickled down his temple and gathered in a thick blob at his jaw, dripping every so often onto his shoulder and neck. His shoulders moved up and down as he caught his breath and stared at her through wrathful eyes, adjusting his glasses back on his face. His expressionless face sent chills down her spine. He reached into his pocket and retrieved a yellow handkerchief. Wiping the blood away from his face, he never broke eye contact with her.

Abby’s eyes quickly searched the room for something—anything— that she could use to protect herself. Her eyes landed on a set of iron dumbbells on the floor about six feet away from her. She looked back up at him, carefully measuring if the distance was attainable. Her heart sank as she saw his eyes travel to the dumbbells as well, knowing full well that he was aware of her plan. Their eyes met again, his daring her to try. He stood straight and folded the handkerchief in half, placing it back in his pocket.

Not willing to go down without a fight, Abby leapt sideways and reached for the dumbbell. It was inches from her grasp when she felt a sharp, painful tug at the back of her scalp. Dennis’s fingers became entangled in her hair as he jerked her into a standing position and dragged her backward into the room.

Abby screamed and clawed at his hand, kicking her feet up in an attempt to fall from his grip. He wrapped his other arm around her waist for better leverage. She struggled against him, but the harder she pushed, the tighter his grip became. Unable to make him loosen his hold on her hair, Abby reached further back and grabbed ahold of his own hair. She clenched her fist as tight as she could around the hair at the top of his head and twisted and yanked.

“UnnnnnnhhhhhAAAAAAAAHHHHHH!” Dennis’s grunt turned into a loud yell, his scalp feeling like it was on fire as she pulled at the hairline that had just been cut.

Growing increasingly aggravated, he turned their bodies and slammed Abby against the stone wall, knocking the wind out of her enough for her to loosen her grip on his hair. He released her waist and swiftly grabbed her wrist away from his head, wrapping it in front of her again and pushing his knee against the back of her thigh. She was pinned between his body and the wall.

Abby coughed and sputtered. She slammed her eyes shut tightly as her cheek scraped against the coarse wall. His body was pressed tightly against hers, holding her in place. She struggled for a few seconds more without making any progress. Like a fly in a spider’s web, he had her ensnared.

They stood there for a few seconds with nothing but their ragged breaths to break the silence. Dennis’s heavy breathing was hot on the side of her face. Small sections of her hair blew with every breath he exhaled. Abby shivered and decided to try to escape one more time just as he had begun to speak, hoping that he had become distracted.

“Everyone,” he said but then stopped to regain control of her movements. “HEY!”

He squeezed his hands tighter around her wrist and her hair, tugging her head back at an uncomfortable angle, exposing the elegant curve of her neck. She winced in pain and suddenly stilled, not wanting to experience any more discomfort. The pulsing vein in her neck caught his attention, and he licked his bottom lip. He waited a few more seconds before speaking.

“Everyone is entitled to one error,” his deep voice crossly uttered.

Their heavy breathing continued, eventually falling in sync with each other. Dennis rubbed his nose against her tangled hair, inhaling her aroma. It still managed to smell just as sweet and intoxicating as the first time he had met her. He felt himself becoming excited as he pressed his body harder against hers. Abby felt his excitement, too.

Speaking directly against the back of her jaw, he warned, “You just made yours.”

Abby’s vision became blurry from the tears building up along her waterline. She squeezed her eyes tightly, allowing the tears to freely fall down her cheek. She remained silent, accepting her defeat in this round. The feeling of his lips brushing against her skin as he spoke made her shiver.

Dennis suddenly released her hair and arm and swiftly turned around to walk away. Abby remained immobile except to shakily grasp her injured hand. She was too afraid to turn around and look at him. This man was dangerous.

“I’ll send Patricia to tend to your hand,” Dennis announced before turning on his heel and leaving the room, shutting the door and locking it behind him.

Abby’s breathing was shaky as the tears continued to fall. She rotated to allow her right side to rest against the wall. No longer having the strength to hold herself up, she allowed her body to slide down the wall until she was resting on her knees. She finally was able to take in a big breath of air, but because of her fear, it sounded like a loud, choking gasp. Her hands shook, dripping blood onto her pant leg. She arched her back and sobbed, petrified of what the future would hold.

Her only hope right now was that, as a woman, Patricia could be reasoned with.


	6. Meeting Patricia

 

Abby heard the outer door open and close followed by the soothing hum of a woman’s voice and jingling keys. She sniffled and quickly stood up, trying to compose herself.

The lock on her own door _clicked,_ and the door cracked open.

“Yoo-hoo, knock-knock,” a feminine British voice called out.

Abby stepped forward but then stopped dead in her tracks when she saw the man standing in the doorway. He was now dressed in a crimson turtleneck, black skirt, and black heels. A silver necklace rested delicately around his neck on the outside of his shirt. He stood properly, shoulders pushed down and back, with perfect posture. His hair was parted at the side rather than brushed back as it had been before. In his hands, he carried a red first-aid kit. He smiled sweetly at her, turning around to close and lock the door, avoiding the mistake made earlier.

“I was told you have an injured hand,” he said in the feminine voice as he turned to face her again. He waited patiently for her to respond, the corners of his mouth turned upward in a friendly smile. “I’m Patricia.”

Abby was confused. This seemed like some sick fetish.

“You’ve got to be fucking kidding me,” Abby stated.

His face grimaced slightly before looking at her with a disapproving nod and said, “Language, _please,_ dear.”

He walked over to the cot and sat lightly, smoothing his skirt across his lap and gently placing the kit on top of the bed. He looked at her expectantly and held out his hand, inviting her to come sit so that he could examine her injury. Abby was hesitant to move, fearful of what tricks this man had up his sleeve.

“Oh, come now, dear,” he spoke pleasantly, “I don’t bite. Come, let me see your hand.” He patted the space next to him, signaling for her to come sit.

There was no escape from this room. Abby decided to comply for the time being in order to keep things calm, in order to protect herself. She slowly stepped forward, watching the man the entire time.

“There we go,” he praised her, softly clutching Abby’s wrist as she sat in the spot she was told.

Abby stared at him as he examined the cut on her hand, lightly twisting her wrist to gain better lighting to the affected area. She saw the cut on his hairline had been cleaned and tended to. His hair appeared to be damp from the cleansing process. He acted as if this whole situation between them had never happened.

He briefly released her wrist to open the first-aid kit and retrieve a pair of tweezers. Once more, he gingerly took her hand in his and tenderly removed the piece of glass from her skin. He placed it on the lid of the kit as he reached for the next item needed.

“You’re staring, dear,” he calmly stated without looking at her. “It’s not polite to stare.”

Abby promptly looked down at her hand, fearful of angering him again. The man glanced up at her as he dabbed at her hand with cotton and a saline solution. He looked back down at the cut.

“I understand this is frightening for you,” he acknowledged.

Abby’s eyes wandered back up to his face again. His focus was intense. He seemed to be a totally different person in this moment, which did frighten her.

“But, Dennis,” he sighed happily, “Dennis is convinced that you are the one.”

He smiled up at her and cocked an eyebrow, as if revealing a girl-to-girl secret.

Abby’s throat felt dry. “The one for what?” she croaked.

“Hmm,” he hummed a brief chuckle and then looked back down at Abby’s hand, getting ready to wrap it in cotton and gauze.

“You’re very special to us, Abby,” he spoke again.

Abby huffed, “You have a funny way of showing it.”

He clamped her hand tightly at this remark, eliciting a pained gasp from Abby. She tried to draw back her hand in response, but he held it in place in a momentary struggle of power. Abby took this as a sign to stop.

He looked at her and continued wrapping her hand. “Sorry,” he said innocently, though Abby sensed the malicious intent of this action.

“There,” he smiled as he finished and tucked the end of the gauze wrap within itself. “All better,” he gently sandwiched her hand between both of his and gave a soft pat on the back of her hand.

Abby jerked her hand back, not wanting to be touched by him. He sat up straight and rubbed his fingers together, examining her response. She could tell, by his disposition, that he considered her response to be rude. He pursed his lips together, seemingly trying to maintain composure. He gathered the supplies up and closed the kit, standing and making his way to the door.

“I’ll be back in to clean the mess you made.”

With that, he left the room and locked the door behind him. Abby sat silently, examining the neatly wrapped gauze that covered her hand. She looked behind her at the broken pieces of glass on the floor, none of which were large enough to injure or overpower him, but she contemplated grabbing one just in case.

Just as Abby was about to push herself from the bed, the man dressed in a skirt returned to the room with a dustpan and hand-broom in one hand and a small paper cup of water in the other. He placed the dustpan at the edge of the bed and shifted the cup to his other hand as he approached Abby.

He held out the cup and two white pills in his other hand. “For the pain,” he said in that soft, British accent.

Abby looked at the pills and doubted that it was pain medication.

She looked up at him and said, “No, thank you.”

His smile slowly disappeared. He loomed over her, his eyes boring in her soul.

“You WILL take this, dear,” he stated in an eerily calm voice.

Abby licked her lips nervously and thought about what would happen if she refused. She knew he was strong enough to overpower her, and it seemed that his injury didn’t even faze him. Abby gulped, and slowly took the pills and cup of water from his hands. She stared at the pills momentarily.

“Go on, dear,” he encouraged her in a more friendly tone this time.

Abby distrustfully placed the pills in her mouth. They tasted bitter on her tongue. She swallowed them down with a large swig of water. She handed the cup back to the man, who then asked for proof that she took it.

“Let’s see,” he said, leaning closer to her, expecting her to open her mouth.

Abby did as she was asked. She opened her mouth and lifted her tongue to show that the pills were, indeed, gone.

He stood back up and smiled approvingly. “Good girl. You should try and get some rest.”

The man walked over to the mess by the bathroom door, his high heels clicking in a steady rhythm. He hummed a cheerful tune as he brushed the glass shards into a pile and scooped them into the pan along with the paper cup. Glancing over his shoulder, he smiled as he hummed. He puckered his lips in a silly gesture at Abby, shrugging his shoulders as he continued to clean.

Abby watched his movements. They were graceful and steady, not like a man who had just been in a brawl and had a vase smashed over his head. She stared at him as he gathered the items and walked out the door again, locking it behind him without a further word.

She exhaled and pulled her legs onto the bed, lying on her side and propping her head on her forearm. _What did he mean? The one for what? Why did he speak about himself in the third person? Why am I here? What is he going to do to me?_ Thoughts raced through her mind as she tried to make sense of what had happened. Regardless of the action-packed events, she was physically and mentally exhausted and found herself having difficulty keeping her eyes open. Her eyelids became heavy… heavier… heavier… until she drifted off into a restless sleep.


	7. The Next Day

 

_“Help!” a little voice screamed._

_Abby strained to breathe through the pain of a thousand knives stabbing through her body._

_“Abby!” the voice screamed again._

_Abby’s vision was blurred as she dipped below the water, her clothes weighing her down, pulling her deeper and deeper. She struggled to get to the surface, to breathe air, to find him. The more she struggled to get to the surface, the further she sank until she saw nothing but blackness._

 

Abby gasped and panted as she sat straight up in bed. Her back was covered in sweat, and a few hairs were matted to the back of her neck. She placed her hand over her chest and took a few breaths to calm herself. She was safe; she was able to breathe.

Seeing a figure out of the corner of her eye, Abby jerked her head to the left. Beside her stood Patricia, as still as a statue. She was holding a stack of towels and toiletries in her hands. Abby eyed the mini bottles of what appeared to be shampoo and conditioner, a small tube of toothpaste, a toothbrush, and a bar of soap. Abby looked up at Patricia, who smirked and cocked an eyebrow at her.

“You slept clear through lunch, sleepyhead.”

Abby said nothing, just continued to stare.

“Lucky for you, I saved you a sandwich,” Patricia nodded at the foot of the bed where she had brought in a small, folding table that held a plate with a ham and cheese sandwich and a glass of milk. Abby’s stomach grumbled, reminding her just how hungry she was. Patricia released a brief, “Hmm,” of a chuckle as she examined Abby’s face.

Abby did not like this person. Of course, she feared her captor: the man with two faces. She didn’t like either one of them. Dennis: the violent, brute of a man; and Patricia: the condescending, prim and proper, governess-type bitch. There was something particularly sinister about this Patricia character. Abby couldn’t quite place her finger on it, but she knew that her original hopes of being able to reason with Patricia went out the metaphorical window. Patricia seemed just as much involved in this kidnapping as Dennis.

“I brought you a few things,” Patricia smirked. She continued to speak as she walked towards the bathroom, the _click-clacking_ of her heels echoing throughout the vacant room. “You’ll feel better once you’ve eaten and had a nice, hot bath. After all,” she stopped when she reached the bathroom door and turned to face Abby again, “cleanliness is next to godliness.”

Abby eyeballed Patricia with contempt. Patricia stood patiently at the door, waiting for Abby to follow. When Abby didn’t respond, she raised the pile in her hands slightly to entice her and asked, “Hmm?”

Recognizing that Patricia was unlikely to leave unless she obeyed, Abby stood from the bed and tugged at the base of her hoodie to ensure every square inch of skin was as covered as possible. Even though he was portraying a female right now, Abby felt uneasy with him seeing any bit of her that she didn’t want him to see. Patricia’s closed-mouth smile widened as Abby walked closer to the bathroom. Patricia exchanged the items into Abby’s hands. Abby was careful to not make physical contact, fearful that it might spark something unwanted. Patricia nodded her head in the direction of the tub, signaling Abby to proceed into the bathroom. Abby walked past her and placed the items on the sink.

“I’ll be back in a half an hour to brush your hair. Won’t that be lovely?” Patricia twisted her necklace between her fingers and grinned at Abby before slowly walking out of the room and locking the door behind her.

Abby slammed the bathroom door shut, immediately disheartened to find that there was no lock. She contemplated whether or not she should have a bath. This could just be a trick to get her naked, to be her most vulnerable. Abby sat on the toilet seat for several minutes, waiting… waiting for him to come back to catch her off guard. Her leg bounced nervously as she anticipated the door to swing open at any minute. The sweat from her neck and back _did_ make her feel unpleasant. A bath would certainly be welcomed, but it would place her at substantial risk.

Abby considered the man’s strength last night. She wondered why he would wait to attack her if he easily had the strength to overpower her when he wanted. The amount of sweat from her nightmare in combination with the dewy makeup caking her face, remnants of last night’s madness, made that bathtub look more and more appealing. After about ten minutes had passed uninterrupted, Abby decided to hurriedly take a bath.

She turned the hot water nozzle as far as it could go, filling the tub with steamy, liquid relaxation to loosen the tight muscles in her back. As the water filled the tub, Abby brushed her teeth with the toothbrush and small tube of toothpaste that Patricia had brought her. She carelessly tossed the items at the back of the sink in disarray. She stared at her reflection, hating to see the sad, scared girl in front of her. Unwrapping several strands of hair from its clutches, she removed the flower clip from her hair and dropped it on the floor. Abby then removed her clothes and quickly retreated to the bathtub.

She stared blankly at the front of the tub, listening to the soothing _drip_ sounds that leftover droplets of water made as they fell from the faucet to the basin of water. Her dream replayed in her head… of that night… of the screams that suddenly turned silent. It tormented her every day; there was no getting away from it. If there could be no physical escape from this prison…

Abby slowly slid her torso down further into the tub, closing her eyes as she dipped her head beneath the water. She lowered her hands to her stomach, feeling her hand become heavier as the water soaked through her dressing. Liquid filled her ears, muffling everything around her. For a few seconds, she felt relaxed, feeling the warm sensation of the water against her skin, hearing the soft thumping of her heartbeat in her ears. Then, she heard what sounded like someone talking to her, but she could not understand the words. She opened her eyes beneath the water and blinked rapidly. Through the ripples she saw the man standing over her in a navy and yellow track suit, moving his lips to talk.

 _“Are you okay?”_ his words were inaudible to her.

Abby was startled. She speedily crossed her arms over her chest and tightened her thighs together, trying to hide her most private parts from view. She pushed her feet against the front of the tub to bring herself above the surface. Water sloshed over the edge of the tub and crashed onto the tile floor. She screamed. He screamed.

“Get out! Get out! Get out!” Abby screamed at him, crossing her legs in an attempt to further cover herself.

He raised his eyebrows and had a look of pure panic as he stumbled and fell backward. “I’m thorry!” he shouted with a lisp as he hurriedly stood again. He covered his eyes and awkwardly ran out of the bathroom, swinging the door closed behind him.

Abby breathed a sigh of relief. Her heart raced at such a close call.

A few seconds later, the man peeked in the door again and smiled impishly, giggling as he said, “I thaw your boobieth.”

“GET OUT!” Abby shrieked, covering herself to the best of her ability.

He jumped at her screeching and closed the door again, leaving Abby alone in the bathroom.

Abby exhaled sharply and covered her face in horror.


	8. The Revelation

 

Abby stood in front of the mirror, watching Patricia brush her damp hair. She mindlessly twisted the fabric of her sleeve, her nerves preventing her from standing completely still.

Abby felt embarrassed that he had seen her naked. She watched his face for some sort of acknowledgement of the events that had occurred, but instead she saw nothing but serenity and concentration as Patricia slowly brushed out the knots and smoothed her hair over again with her hand. Being touched by Patricia repulsed her. She already detested Patricia, but now she was fuming at having been so exposed to him.

That moment played over and over again in her head. There had been something about his eyes. His face had been more relaxed, unlike the stern scowl permanently plastered on Dennis’s face. His voice was different, too. Not like the British accent that Patricia spoke with, but a lisp. His demeanor had been childlike. The awkward way that he ran from the room on his tiptoes… the mischievous smile that had spread across his face after he saw her… But, it did seem like just that: mischievous. Not sinister, not threatening, not hungry and wanting. Nonetheless, it angered Abby and made her feel vulnerable.

“Hedwig mentioned that you had an encounter,” Patricia finally spoke.

Abby continued to watch her, but Patricia made no attempt at looking her in the eyes.

“He’s harmless,” Patricia promised, “just a silly boy.” Patricia looked at Abby’s reflection in the mirror. “He’s curious about you, but I told him, he’s _not_ to bother you.” She smiled reassuringly.

Abby wondered just how long this guy was going to continue this circus. Already, there were three different characters: Dennis, Patricia, and now Hedwig. How many more would there be? How many charades was he going to hide behind to keep her guessing, to keep her afraid? These were mind games.

“What do you want from me?” Abby asked, furious from how he tricked her into letting him see her naked.

Patricia ignored her question and continued to brush Abby’s hair until Abby reached around and grabbed Patricia’s hand, stopping her actions. Patricia watched Abby carefully as she turned around to face her. Abby held Patricia’s hand with both of hers, pleading.

“Please,” Abby felt her throat tighten as she attempted to choke back tears. “Please, just let me go. Just let me go home, and I won’t tell anyone. I…”

“Ssshhh ssshhh sshhh,” Patricia placed a finger over Abby’s lips to stifle her plea. “You are here to serve a purpose.”

Patricia lowered her finger from Abby’s lips, and Abby stared at her, perplexed. “What purpose?”

“For the Beast,” Patricia said frankly, as if Abby should have already known.

“What are you talking about?” Abby released Patricia’s hand.

“My dear,” Patricia cupped her hand warmly over Abby’s cheek. “He has such wonderful plans for you. For the world. A pure world. And you are going to help Him in the most honorable and selfless way possible.”

“How?”

“By giving Him a child.”

Abby’s stomach flip-flopped like a fish out of water. “Excuse me?”

“I didn’t stutter, dear,” Patricia’s face was void of emotion. She placed the brush on the edge of the sink and then stepped back, clasping her hands together in front of her. “You have been chosen to bestow this extraordinary consecration. When He is ready to arrive, you will provide Him with a child. This child will mark the beginning of a pure world.”

Abby’s heart nearly beat out of her chest. This was crazy. This person was crazy. The way Patricia spoke nearly made it sound like the second coming of Christ. And it was to be _her_ that brought this child into the world? She couldn’t have possibly heard this correctly.

“When you say ‘give him a child’… you mean… what, exactly?” she prompted Patricia to clarify their plans.

“Exactly what I said,” Patricia said nonchalantly.

“And how do you expect me to do that?” Abby asked. She wasn’t pregnant. She didn’t even have a boyfriend.

Patricia blinked at her and chuckled, amused at Abby’s naiveté. “The way ALL women bring children into this world.” Patricia further elucidated, “You will become impregnated by the Beast, and welcome His child by means of childbirth.”

Abby could hardly believe her ears. _Become impregnated by the Beast? Who was the Beast? Dennis? No way. No. Fucking. Way._

“The hell I will,” Abby defiantly snapped, her internal dialogue escaping her mouth without deliberation.

Patricia’s one eye twitched as she raised one corner of her mouth into a malevolent sneer. The two of them stared at each other, each holding their own belief to be the correct one.

“You can oppose it all you like, dear, but you cannot contest that which has already been decided by fate,” Patricia defended. She took a step forward to Abby, closing the distance between them as a sign of authority. “One way or another, He _WILL_ have His pure world… cooperation or not.” There was fire in Patricia’s eyes as she revealed Abby’s destiny. She slowly nodded her head once. “You’ll do well to accept that.”

 _Cooperation or not._ Those words sent chills down Abby’s spine.

Abby huffed a short little snicker, halfway between alarm and disgust. Their eyes met. Patricia’s jaw was rigid, her lips slightly puckered in a dare for Abby to contend their plans for her fate.

“You’re a bit of a cunt. Aren’t you, Patricia?” Abby ridiculed.

Patricia’s eyes widened and her lips pressed together into a tight, angry line. She felt her self-control slipping through her fingers. Without warning, she slapped Abby with her open hand across the cheek. Abby cried out, more in shock than in pain, as she jerked her head to the side at the force of the unexpected blow. Abby rubbed her cheek to alleviate the sting and quickly looked back up at Patricia, who now appeared to be trying to hide her anger.

“This arrangement has been nerve-wracking for all of us,” Patricia rationalized more calmly.

Patricia looked down at the floor and spotted the purple flower clip that Abby had tossed aside earlier. She gracefully bent at her knees and retrieved the clip, brushing the starchy, fabric petals between her fingers. She looked at Abby again and reached out to her. Abby recoiled slightly as Patricia swept a few strands of hair behind Abby’s ears and clipped them in place with the barrette. When she was finished, Patricia clasped her hands together again and stepped back, examining Abby with a sigh.

“Perhaps you need some time alone to consider the importance of your role.”

Patricia gave a pompous smirk and slowly turned on her heels to exit the room. She glanced back once at Abby as she opened the door to leave the bedroom, letting out her signature “Hmm” before leaving.

Abby angrily ripped the barrette from her hair. Several strands of hair were plucked from her head in the process, but she didn’t care. Upon its removal, she threw it to the floor. It had been tainted by Patricia’s touch.

She needed a plan for getting out of here before this thing had time to progress into something more unimaginable than she originally thought.


	9. The Mess

 

 

Abby paced back and forth across the width of the room, trying to think of a foolproof plan for escaping. She nervously chewed on her thumbnail as her brain constantly reminded her that she had nothing. She had nothing to work with. No windows. No phones. No weapons.

She turned around and looked at the bathroom. An idea popped into her head. Abby began to walk towards the bathroom when she heard keys jingling from the other side of the door. She stopped and backed into the far corner of the room. Her shoulders involuntarily hunched up as she wrapped her arms around herself instinctively.

Dennis opened the door and glanced at her before stepping inside and locking the door behind him. In his hand he carried a gray bucket with two spray bottles hanging on the inner edge. He looked different from the last time she saw him...or Patricia. His short hair had been cut… buzzed… into a close-cropped style. He looked at her and rubbed the top of his peach-fuzz head. The feeling must have been foreign to him; his hand lingered. Abby imagined that he had cut his hair in order to avoid another situation like last night from happening again. Internally, she celebrated that she had rattled him. He glanced down at the floor and picked up the flower clip that she had thrown earlier. He then looked over at the bathroom and saw her wet towel laying on the floor.

“No, no, no,” he marched to the bathroom. Abby heard the _thud_ of the bucket being forcefully placed on the floor. “You… the…” he spoke in a frustrated tone from behind the bathroom wall, unable to form a coherent sentence through his revulsion. He emerged, obviously flustered, and pointed into the bathroom. “Please, keep your area clean. Towels are to be hanged on the rack, the cap goes back on the toothpaste,” he stopped talking when he spotted the blood on her clothing. He pinched the bridge of his nose with his thumb and index finger and sighed, mentally regrouping and then lowering his hand. “Look at your clothes. You’ve got blood on your pants and your sweatshirt. They’re filthy, they’re ruined.”

Abby looked down at the speckled, dried drops of blood that now appeared to be black on her blue jeans. A few drops had also splattered onto the lower front of her hoodie, probably during their struggle last night. She wouldn’t say her clothes were ruined. They were spotty in places, but there was hardly any blood on her clothing.

“Take them off,” he commanded in an assertive manner.

Abby’s head swiftly jerked up to look at him. He appeared dominant as he stood. His feet were spread shoulder-width apart, and his arms rested at his sides, slightly held outward away from his torso. Her throat clenched, and she was afraid to speak. Patricia’s words played through her head on repeat. She’s here to make a baby… to breed… with him. All she could do in that moment was rapidly shake her head _no_.

“Remove them,” Dennis repeated, forceful with his words.

They continued to stare at each other. His patience was dwindling. The mess on her clothing bothered him greatly. Although her defiance riled him, he reminded himself that her feistiness was one of the aspects about her that he enjoyed the most. He did not want to frighten her, but he would do what he needed to do in order to get what he wanted. What they wanted. What, he was half-sure, the Beast wanted. She was smaller than him. Weaker, too. He could easily subdue her, but deep down, that isn’t what he wanted to do. He wanted her to _want_ to be compliant.

The air seemed thick with tension. Abby was in no position to argue. She was in the corner, of all stupid places to be. She already knew, from last night’s scuffle, that she was no match for his strength. He scared her. All of him scared her. Him… the woman… This seemed like a nightmare from which she could not wake. She finally found her voice within herself.

“No,” she meekly disobeyed.

“I wasn’t asking,” Dennis grunted. Abby remained unmoved. “You can either take them off now,” he threatened, taking a step forward, “or I can come over there and remove them for you.”

When Abby did not respond to that statement, he took another step forward.

“Alright,” Abby immediately agreed with hands defensively in front of her, speaking louder to ensure that he heard her and stopped approaching. She backed herself further against the wall. He waited. “Alright.”

She was thankful that she at least had another shirt on underneath her hoodie. Abby promptly worked to free her arms from the sleeves and then lifted it over her head. She threw the hoodie at him, the distance too far or the throw too weak to reach him. It fell in a heap one foot in front of him. She crossed her arms and puckered her lips, angry that, once again, she had lost.

Dennis observed her as he bent forward and retrieved it from the floor. He folded it neatly in his hands and then held the bundle in front of his crotch as he stood up straight again.

“Pants, too,” he reminded her.

Her heart raced and her legs felt like spaghetti. Aside from her underwear, she had nothing else to cover herself. No other pair of pants or long johns or tights to make her feel less exposed. That familiar stinging feeling returned to her eyes as tears began to rise to the surface. His face remained like a statue. Emotionless. Void of humanity. She worried about what would happen once she removed her pants. Unbelievably even more so, she worried about what would happen if she didn’t.

As she looked down to undo her button and zipper, Dennis ordered her, “Slowly.”

She paused and peered up at him, hands still on either flap attached to the zipper. He pressed the hoodie harder against himself and faintly stirred his hips. Abby noticed this and felt unnerved. She then glanced over at the bed, at the blanket that was still turned down from hours prior. She slowly walked over to the bed, her eyes glancing back at Dennis, who never dropped his gaze.

Picking up the blanket and wrapping it under her armpits, she then proceeded to remove her pants. She was careful to keep her lower body concealed, lifting the blanket only enough to pull the pants over her hips. She avoided his gaze as she steadily worked to wiggle out of her pants beneath the shield she had created for herself.

When she finished, she stood back up and held the blanket tightly with one hand and her pants in the other. Dennis stared at her, relaxing his arms away from his crotch, the hoodie now being solely held in one hand. He was disappointed. Abby dropped her jeans to the floor and kicked them over to him. The metal button grazed against the cement, creating a dull scraping sound to break the awkward silence.

Dennis hadn’t anticipated her outsmarting him with this maneuver. He was dissatisfied that his hopes of seeing more of her had been dashed. He deliberated internally if he should take the blanket, too, but ultimately decided against it, for now.

He sighed, bending down to retrieve her pants. He neatly folded them in half and hung them over his forearm. Her defiance was stimulating and erotic. The payoff, he suspected, would be worth it.

“Please have the bathroom cleaned before I return. I’ve marked the bottles,” he nodded towards the bathroom and waited for her to acknowledge his request.

Abby nodded her head. Dennis’s eyes ventured down to her knees where the blanket split and the tiniest bit of skin was exposed. He inhaled sharply as Abby realized and covered herself fully. He rubbed the top of his head, seemingly wanting to say something to her, but he declined and left the room.

Abby sat on the bed, wondering how long he would allow her to walk around in a blanket before asking for that from her, too.


	10. Meeting Hedwig

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> FYI, I am doing my best to incorporate some things into this fic from the movie, that way it seems like a true prequel. :)

 

_"Abby!” the sound of his voice was muted and barely passed through the water that was in her ears._

_Abby finally returned to the surface. Coughing, choking, gagging. Her body shivered uncontrollably as water and ice sloshed against her neck and face. She reached her hand out to the icy surface, trying to pull herself up to safety. The ice broke off in a thick sheet, flopping her back into the freezing water like an anchor. She resurfaced and reached forward again for a different section of ice, this time able to hold her arms, shoulders, and head out of the water. Her entire body quivered in a fruitless effort to generate heat. It was then that she realized his screams had stopped._

_“Adam?” Abby called out, her breath escaping her mouth like a billowy apparition._

_“Adam?!” Abby screamed. No response. “Adam! ADAM!!!”_

_Hands grabbed her by her clothes and under her arms…_

 

Abby jolted awake at the feeling of someone pushing her shoulder heavily. She inhaled sharply and her eyes widened at the sight of the man kneeling in front of her in the dark, inches from her face.

“You’re it!” the man exclaimed as he pushed her shoulder. “Come and find me!” he giggled as he ran away from her.

Abby saw the shadows and light pour in onto the floor from the second room. Her door was open. She bolted upright, seeing that both doors were now unlocked. The hallway outside was dimly lit, but it was open for her. Abby threw the covers off of her and rose to her feet. The cool cement beneath her feet and nippy air on her bare legs chilled the rest of her body. She heard muffled giggles in the distance that made her hair stand on end.

Quietly rubbing her arms for warmth, she stepped into the second room, an office looking type area. She saw a wall full of clothes to her left, and a computer to her right. The screensaver brightened up the shadowy room. She stretched forward to peek out the doorway and around the corner, checking to see if the man was nearby. She saw an empty hallway, unsure of where he was. She then ran over to the computer and wiggled the mouse to wake the computer. A bright blue screen appeared, asking for a password.

Abby typed in “Beast” and hit enter. Wrong password. She typed in all the names she could think of that made sense. Dennis. Patricia. Hedwig. Access denied.

“You’re thuppothed to come find me!” the man gleefully exclaimed as he poked her sides from behind.

Abby jumped and spun around, greeted by a smiling face with beautiful, bright, pool-blue eyes.

“What are you doing?” he asked, pointing behind her at the computer.

Abby didn’t know what to say. She had been caught. She decided to try to distract him.

“You’re… Hedwig?” she asked.

His ears perked up and his face glowed. “Yeah! That’th me!” he said. “Mith Patricia thaid I’m not allowed to bother you, but Mithter Dennith wath mad at me for the other day, tho I wanted to thay I’m thorry.”

Abby nodded her head, remembering their former interaction. “You saw me in the tub.”

He giggled and blushed, covering half of his face with his one hand as he bashfully replied, “You were naked.” He looked down at her underwear and then quickly looked away again. “You thtill kinda are.”

Abby looked down and immediately held her hands in front of her underwear to conceal herself. “Yeah, Dennis took my clothes because they were dirty.” Hedwig looked everywhere but at her. “Is there anything over there I can wear?”

Hedwig smiled and ran over to the wall. As he searched along the pegs for something to cover Abby, she quickly turned her head and scanned the desk for something she could use as a weapon. It was impeccably neat and organized. Before she found anything of use, he returned, shoving a pair of pants and a jacket in her face.

“Here, thethe are Jade’th, but you can wear them for now.”

“Won’t Jade need them?” Abby asked, not fully certain of who Jade was. She was beginning to piece together the possibility that these clothes belonged to other people he had brought here… or perhaps all of the clothes on the wall belonged to a different character this man made up.

“Pfft, no,” he laughed and rolled his eyes. “She’th thleeping. She’ll thleep ath long ath I want her to.”

He smiled at her and continued to stare at her face. Abby felt uncomfortable. This man was taller than her and he was talking like a third grade child. Plus, she was half-naked in front of him.

“Could you, um,” Abby twirled her finger, asking the man to give her some privacy.

“Ooohh,” he giggled.

He turned around and placed his hands over his eyes for good measure. Abby worked quickly to slide into the jeans and pink hoodie, which were slightly large on her. When she finished she said, “Okay,” and Hedwig turned back around, still smiling.

“Do you wanna go play?” Hedwig asked her, completely innocent and sweet in his demeanor.

Abby studied him briefly. This character was different from the others. “Hedwig, how old are you?”

“Nine,” he proudly proclaimed, lifting his chin in the air. “Tho, do you want to? We could go play in my room.”

Her eyes shifted back and forth looking into both of his. She somehow felt more relaxed with him. Yes, she still felt as if she had to be on her guard, but Hedwig did not seem threatening. Maybe it was his demeanor, maybe it was the lisp. Maybe it was the fact that he was portraying a nine-year-old child.

“……Okay.”

Hedwig’s grin widened and he excitedly took her hand in his. “Come on! Thith way!”

He practically pulled her arm out of its socket as he dragged her out of the room and into a long hallway. Abby’s eyes wandered all over the place as she tried to memorize the path they were taking for future reference when she made her escape. The hallway walls were bland. No windows were in sight, not even in any of the rooms they passed. They walked past a small kitchen area, a few storage rooms, and finally up a narrow set of winding stairs until they finally reached his room.

It was not what she expected. It appeared to be an actual child’s room. There was a twin sized bed, drawings and coloring pages hanging on the walls, stuffed animals and figurines on shelves. Loud music suddenly rattled off the walls. Abby was startled at the unexpected rap music. She looked over to the corner where the music was playing and saw Hedwig bouncing and moving his arms like… a nine-year-old boy. It would have been comical if she weren’t so afraid of him.

He turned the music way down to barely audible and said, “I love muthic. Do you love muthic?”

Abby swallowed and nodded her head. “Sure.”

“Mithter Dennith thaid you’re a good danther and thinger,” Hedwig smiled, breathing quickly with harmless excitement. “Will you thing me thomething?” he asked seriously, turning to his CD player and shutting it off. He waited for her start singing. Their staring felt reminiscent of an awkward sixth-grade dance.

“Uh,” Abby blanked. “I don’t know… what do you want me to sing?”

“Do you know anything by Kanye Wetht? He’th my favorite.”

She shook her head. “Sorry.”

“How about… your favorite thong?”

“My favorite song,” Abby repeated, trying to think of what it was.

Hedwig nodded his head and sat on his bed, watching her with adoring eyes.

“I can’t think of any,” she said. He frowned. Not wanting to displease him, she quickly corrected, “I mean… I never really thought of which one was my favorite… but, here’s one I used to sing all the time to…” she paused. “It’s an old one.”

He nodded his head and waited with anticipation. She closed her eyes, feeling self-conscious singing for one person with no music to help guide her. She sang for him “Somewhere over the Rainbow.” When she finished, she opened her eyes to find him lying on his belly, propping his head up with his hands on his chin, smiling.

“Wooooow,” he said, mouth agape. “You’re good.”

Abby half-smiled. “Thanks.”

“Do you wanna color?” he rolled off the bed and quickly changed subjects.

Abby nodded her head— anything to feel less awkward than right now. Hedwig pulled out a box of markers and colored pencils and a large sketch pad from under his bed. He signaled for her to sit on the floor with him. She complied. He struggled with a pencil sharpener that was full of shavings and jammed shut. She watched with confusion. Dennis demonstrated such strength, and Hedwig couldn’t even undo a pencil sharpener lid. Abby couldn’t help but feel sorry for him. This was a peculiar character; he was the only one who seemed truly innocent. He reminded her of Adam. Abby watched him struggle for a few seconds with the sharpener, eventually taking pity on him.

“Here,” she said, holding her hand out to help him.

“It’th thtuck,” he explained, handing the container to her.

Abby forcefully pulled the sharpener apart. Shavings fell onto her new hoodie, which she promptly brushed off of her and onto the floor. They proceeded with coloring. Abby soon forgot that she was in a room with another person. They colored in silence for a short amount of time. She was in her own world as she drew two pictures of a large window, something that she so desperately wished she had in this place.

“Who’th Adam?” Hedwig asked out of the blue. Abby’s eyes met his in surprise. “You thaid hith name in your thleep.”

Abby wondered what else she had revealed in her sleep. Hedwig seemed harmless enough. She placed the cap back on her marker and reached for another one. “My brother.”

Picking up on her tone, Hedwig asked, “Did thomething happen to him?”

Abby took in a deep breath and nodded her head, remembering the events as if they happened yesterday. “There was an accident.”

“He died?” Hedwig asked, his eyes full of sorrow.

This was the most emotion she had seen out of this man. Abby became silent.

Hedwig sensed her sadness and tried to change the subject again. “What are you drawing?”

Abby exhaled and sadly smiled at his attempt to guide the discussion. She welcomed the change, not wanting to relive that night.

“A window. See? This one is closed,” she flipped the paper over to the next page, “and this one is open. Closed… open.” She altered between the two to show him her outlines. “I thought it would be nice to have some windows in here.”

“Cool!” Hedwig laughed as he sat up on his knees and repeated her motions, flipping back and forth between the two drawings with sheer delight. “I’m not allowed to go out-thide,” he announced. “Mith Patricia thaid I’m too clumthy and I would get hurt. I wish I could go out-thide.”

“Me too,” Abby said.

Perhaps, if this character was innocent, she could convince him to unlock the doors. Hedwig may very well be her ticket out of here.

“Hey,” Abby proposed, “why don’t we go outside together? We could go play, and I could watch you… to make sure you don’t get hurt.”

Hedwig smiled at the thought, but then his smile faded, and he vehemently shook his head. “No. No, we’d get in trouble.”

“It could be our secret,” she tried again, hopeful he would change his mind.

Hedwig became a bit more firm and upset, “I thaid no!” He stood and rushed over top of her and out of his room, “You’re going to get me in trouble! You should go back to your room!”

“No! Hedwig!” Abby shouted.

She moved the papers aside and tossed the marker back in the box. She left his room but hadn’t seen where he had gone. She looked left and right, not knowing how to get out of here. The hallways seemed endless, and there was no telling which way was out. She decided to run back down the stairs, the way she had come.

As she reached the bottom of the stairs, she ran into the man, thumping into his solid chest. He grabbed her by her upper arms as they collided. He was wearing the same outfit Hedwig had been wearing, but his demeanor and body language had obviously changed. He stood tall and bulky with a stern look upon his face.


	11. The Conversation

 

Dennis held a tight grip above her right elbow as he unlocked her bedroom door. Upon opening the door, he pushed her inside and released her arm. Abby backed away into the room, rubbing the area that he had gripped tightly as a means of soothing it. He ogled her fleetingly before grunting and exiting the room. The door slammed and the lock _clicked_ into place. The keys jingled in the distance as he walked away from her room.

From the other side of the door, a conversation ensued. Abby stepped forward and kneeled in front of the door, squinting one eye closed so she could see better through the crack between the door and its frame. She saw the man pacing and heard the voices of Patricia and Hedwig. She marveled at the sight of his movements; his gate, his posture, and his tone all changed from one character to the next. Abby could mostly only see his bottom half through the crack in the door, but he was quite animated. She turned her head and placed her ear against the crack, holding her breath to hear what was being said.

“What were you thinking, Hedwig?” Patricia scolded in a hushed voice.

“I jutht wanted thomeone to play with me,” Hedwig whimpered, seemingly on the verge of tears. “No one ever playth with me.”

“You could have ruined the _entire_ plan. She could have ran away from you, and then where would we be?”

“But I didn’t. She wouldn’t have. She thang to me,” he explained. “She’th nithe to me.”

Hedwig’s proclamations were fast and seemed desperate. Just like a child in trouble, he was trying to explain his way out of a punishment. His voice cracked as his emotions came flooding out.

“The Beast needs her,” Patricia reminded him.

“I wath careful,” Hedwig rationalized. “He…”

“He is _VERY_ displeased with you.”

“I’m th… I’m thorry,” Hedwig stammered, sounding slightly more frightened than he was previously.

“You’re a silly, stupid boy, Hedwig,” Patricia spat out.

“But…”

Patricia interrupted him. “She is not here to play with you. Do you understand me?” Hedwig didn’t respond. “Do you understand!?” Patricia asked again in a more irate tone.

“Aaah,” he cried, “yeth.”

“Good. Now, get out of my sight. I don’t want to see you for the rest of the day.”

Abby felt sorry for Hedwig. She mentally kicked herself for feeling compassion for her captor, but she couldn’t help it. He reminded her of her own dear brother. In a way, she felt like she should be protective of him. She wanted greatly to yell at Patricia, to put her in her place. But, Patricia was a force not to be reckoned with. Patricia was stronger than Abby had imagined. She seemed to have a sort of motherly, head-of-household influence in addition to some bizarre principles that made her a ticking time-bomb, Abby suspected.

Abby was quickly realizing that each of these identities had different motives. Poor Hedwig was lonely. Of course, he would be. Who would want to play with a thirty-something-year-old man who acted like a child? The whole thing was creepy, and, in a way, sad.

She turned her head again to peek through the crack, curious as to what was happening now that the other room fell silent. Hedwig disappeared from Abby’s sight towards the wall where the clothes were hanging. His whimpering faded into nothingness.

Another conversation started, this time between Dennis and Patricia. Their voices were hushed, not meant for Abby’s ears. They were out of sight, completely hidden from view around the corner. Abby placed her ear against the door again, straining to hear the conversation that was much quieter this time around.

“You’re hard on the boy,” Dennis told Patricia.

“He makes stupid mistakes, Dennis. He’s not strong or smart like you. He nearly ruined this for all of us,” she argued.

“We need him.”

“We need her more,” Patricia quickly barked back.

“Without him, this doesn’t happen,” Dennis hissed. “We need him to keep the others at bay.”

Abby’s ears perked up as she strained to hear their conversation through the wall. She was disheartened to learn that Hedwig had a part to play in this whole ordeal after all. Her compassion for Hedwig started to diminish. He was the same person as the others, and yet, she somehow felt betrayed by him. _What others are they talking about?_

“Some of the others are _already talking_ , Dennis,” Patricia pointed out, a hint of anxiety in her voice. “He is unable to keep this restricted from prying ears. He likes her, Dennis, he really does. If he gets too attached, he’ll continue to make more and more careless mistakes. Mistakes that we _cannot_ possibly afford.”

“And do you really think that forbidding him to see her will keep him away? He’ll just do it and try to keep it from you. We _need him_ to be forthcoming with us. If he’s not happy, we’re not happy. Without him, you’re sitting in that chair indefinitely.” Dennis’s tone was much calmer than Patricia’s. He didn’t seem to have the same fears she did. “Indefinitely,” he repeated.

“I am fully cognizant of that,” Patricia admitted, her aggression dying down.

Abby felt lost. All this talk about chairs and prying ears and Hedwig’s involvement was confusing to her.

“I’ll take care of the others,” Dennis offered. “You focus on correcting whatever _this_ was. We _cannot_ do this alone.”

There was a brief lull before either of them spoke again.

“How do you propose I manage that?” Patricia asked sincerely. “He’s a sensitive boy,” she pointed out, likely implying to the fact that Hedwig's feelings were hurt and he would be hesitant to interact with her again so soon.

Dennis thought for a second. “He liked it when she sang to him,” Dennis referred to Abby. “Try singing to him.”

Patricia scoffed. Singing wasn’t exactly her forte, and she didn’t exactly care for Hedwig enough to want to make that effort.

“If not, I’m sure he’d be quite happy to put you back in your chair.”

Patricia considered this statement. “Alright,” she agreed. “I’ll do it. Not for him, and not for you. But for the greater good.”

“Just be convincing,” Dennis said. “We’ve come too far to let a little skirmish like this undo us. We need to stick together now more than ever. If the others are talking, like you say they are, we need a united front. We can’t have one of them finding out and telling the doctor.”

 _The doctor? What doctor? Another character, or a real doctor?_ Abby was dying to find out. She needed information to increase her chances of survival.

“Just make sure that you are doing your part,” Patricia sounded critical.

“What do you mean?”

“I see the way you look at her,” Patricia said. Dennis made a sound at her comment, as if it had been a preposterous accusation without any merit. “You’re unable to hide it. I know what you want with her. And you cannot,” Patricia told him. “You cannot touch her.”

Another silent lull.

“Do you understand? I need you to listen to me. I need your head in this, Dennis,” Patricia justified.

Abby released her breath, her lungs aching from holding it for so long to hear the details of the conversation. Her heart beat so loud that she was certain they could hear it from the other room. She took a few more breaths and then held it again, listening to hear what else they would say. She placed her ear against the door and stilled. But, she heard nothing.


	12. Dance For Me

 

The room was silent, but she knew there had not been another door; he was still there, out of view. When she heard nothing, she slowly turned her head and peered through the crack of the door again. Unexpectedly, he appeared and hurriedly walked towards Abby’s door. Abby fell backwards onto her hands as she scurried to get out of the way and stand. She managed to crawl backward to the cot by the time Dennis opened the door. Dennis looked down with his eyes, maintaining an upright posture, now wearing his typical dark slacks and gray, button-down shirt.

“Take those clothes off,” he demanded as Abby stood from the floor.

Abby’s heart stopped. “What?” she asked in surprise.

“Take those clothes off. They aren’t yours.”

“But, Hedwig said…”

He interrupted her, “I don’t care what Hedwig said. Look at you,” he held his hand out in the direction of her hoodie. Tiny remnants of pencil shavings stuck to the soft hoodie. “You have dirt on your shirt. Please. Just remove them.”

They stared at each other. Abby felt scared and dreaded the thought of what would happen once the clothes were removed. Knowing that she was there for one purpose only, she felt that this action would only add fuel to the fire.

“NOW!” he yelled, becoming impatient with every passing second.

Abby jumped and her shoulders protectively hunched up as she squeezed her arms tighter against her body. She quickly unzipped the pink hoodie and removed it with haste, dropping it to the floor. Next, she unbuttoned the jeans that rested loosely on her hips. She paused and looked at him with pleading eyes while he returned her gaze with desire. She remembered how she had managed to maintain some modesty the last time by wrapping a blanket around herself.

As she reached for the blanket on the cot, Dennis snapped, “Don’t.” She was startled at the sudden gruffness of his voice, and she froze. “Take them off. Slowly.”

She closed her eyes in a momentary prayer. This man terrified her. She wasn’t sure what outcome would be worse: if she removed her pants in front of him, and he acted on that… or if she refused, and he acted on that. He was too strong for her, and his posturing and tone were intimidating.

Abby finally built up the courage to finish taking off her pants and did as she was asked. She unzipped the jeans and slowly rolled the waistline down over her hips and buttocks, along her thighs and knees, before finally letting them drop to her feet where she stepped out of them and stood still.

Dennis’s heart raced. It was everything he imagined it would be. Her milky white skin: the epitome of perfection. She was nervous, he could tell. The way she stood with her ankles crossed-- knees and thighs tightly together— accentuated the curves of her womanly hips and round posterior. She clasped her hands together in a feeble attempt to hide her underwear from his sight, but it was of no use. He saw the white, cotton panties with little red cherries all over the fabric, peeking out from behind her hands and beneath her t-shirt. His breath hitched inside his throat and his cock throbbed in his pants.

He took a step back and rubbed his face, making a sound between a moan and a groan, contemplating what he should do. He dragged his hands up his face and over his closely-cropped hair, interlocking his fingers together behind his head as he stared at her and thought. This was wrong, he knew it was wrong, but it felt so right. He wanted this, he _needed_ this. For being good for too long, he was owed this. His eyes studied every square inch of her body, and he imagined how she would feel, skin against skin. As his eyes trailed down her body, they landed on the pile of clothes on the floor. No matter how arousing she was, he needed the area to be perfect.

“Pick those up and fold them,” he ordered in a tranquil tone.

 _An odd request,_ Abby reflected. She did as she was told, first folding the jeans into fourths and then neatly folding the hoodie and placing them on the bed. She waited. _Anything to keep him calm._

Dennis chewed anxiously on his bottom lip as his eyes continued to return to her underwear and bare legs. He recalled how sensual she looked up on stage the night he took her from the club. How she had danced like he was the only one in the room. This time, he _was_ the only one in the room. And he had complete control.

“Dance for me.”

Abby gulped. _Where is this leading?_ Despite her recent bath, she suddenly felt dirty. She was being used for his sick pleasure. Again, though, she worried about what he would do to her if she refused.

Shyly, she pointed out, “There’s no music.”

He breathed in harshly and examined her for a few seconds before turning on his heel and leaving the room. Some clicking was heard coming from the office area. It sounded like he was at the computer. Within a minute, music began to softly fill the second room. A song she recognized: “Black Velvet.”

Dennis reentered the room with a folded, wooden chair. He opened the chair in the doorway and gently brushed the seat with his yellow kerchief before he placed it back in his pocket and sat down. He sat upright, rigid. His hands rested on his knees and he tugged on the fabric of his pant leg to sooth his nerves. Regardless of the fact that he was nervous, he appeared calm and collected.

All of a sudden, Abby forgot how to move. She forgot how to dance. She was frozen. The embarrassment and fear immobilized her. Signaling her to begin moving, Dennis cleared his throat.

Abby closed her eyes, inhaled and exhaled. The rise and fall of her chest held Dennis’s attention. She shifted her weight back and forth on her feet. Gradually, she began to sway her hips from side to side, matching the relaxed rhythm of the music. She recalled the night she sang this at the bar; the same night he took her. It was clear then that he had been watching her that night, and he obviously had an idea in his head of the dance he wanted to see. Abby decided to copy the moves from her memory. She touched the outside of her thighs, rubbing them up and down in a slow and sensual fashion. Her body lowered closer to the floor as she dipped her knees and teasingly wiggled her hips.

His pants started to feel tighter as his attraction to her grew. He wanted to touch her but knew that he shouldn’t. He couldn’t remember the last time he was allowed to experience the joys of the flesh, the warmth of a woman’s body. The way Abby moved her body suggested that she would be quite satisfactory in that department.

Not only did he want her, he wanted things to be different with her. To know her thoughts, to know her past, to spend time with her. As his eyes trailed up the curves of her body and landed on her face, he frowned. Her eyes were closed. A thin, wet trail traced the apple of her cheek just as he saw another tear follow the exact same path from her eye.

He had done this to her. Gone was the woman from the bus who had been spirited and conversational. She had been replaced by a shattered and terrified, albeit sexy, girl. Dennis felt confused. On one hand he wanted to comfort her, and on the other he wanted to ravish her and do unspeakable things that made him sound like a beast, himself. They were both broken.

The music faded as the song came to an end. Abby stopped moving and resumed her pose from earlier, shamefully trying to hide herself behind her hands. Her cheeks were now red, stained by her tears and embarrassment.

Dennis stood from his chair and appreciated her figure. She was beautiful and seemed so fragile in this moment. He treaded lightly towards her. Abby immediately looked down at the floor to avoid staring into the eyes of a predator. Dennis abruptly knelt before her, causing her body to tense at the lack of space between them. He then snaked his arms around her waist and nuzzled the side of his face just below her chest in an embrace. Tenderly, he held her and started to cry, suddenly feeling a strange surge of emotions that he had not ever experienced before.

Abby was confused and did not know how to react. She did the only thing she thought could keep this situation calm: she gently placed one hand on his shoulder and the other on the back of his head to robotically return the embrace.


	13. Barry

 

“These are exquisite,” Dr. Fletcher marveled at the drawings that he brought to session. “You’ve really got a knack for detail, Barry,” she complimented, closing the leather case and handing his drawings back to him.

Barry beamed as he retrieved his book of drawings and propped it against the chair on the floor. “I don’t know why, but I felt inspired.”

Dr. Fletcher grasped her chin between her thumb and index finger. “You seem different today.”

“Do I?” Barry asked. “How so?”

She shook her head and puckered her lips. “I can’t quite place it.”

Barry smiled and shrugged his shoulders, not knowing how else to respond.

“I mean, everything is fine,” Barry spoke. He rubbed his ear nervously. “There, uh,… there has been _something_ though.”

Dr. Fletcher sat upright, “Oh?”

“The others are talking about this girl,” Barry said. “I’m not sure who, because I can only hear bits and pieces. But, from what I hear, she’s quite a catch.”

Dr. Fletcher chuckled, “A girl? Who is talking about her?”

Barry shrugged his shoulders. “I don’t know. It’s hard to tell. They whisper.”

“What do they say?” she was interested in learning more.

“Um,” Barry tossed his hand in front of him and slapped his thigh, “that she’s pretty… she’s nice, she’s a good singer.”

“And, yet, you haven’t seen her yourself?”

Barry shook his head and pouted his bottom lip. “No, I haven’t. But, she sounds lovely.”

Dr. Fletcher nodded her head, finding it peculiar that Barry had no recollection of this mystery girl. Barry had been the primary alter for years. He had been the one to decide who stands in the light, the one to keep Kevin’s life in control. His lack of knowledge of events was disconcerting.

“I think,” Barry reflected aloud, “that someone is stealing the light from me when I’m not aware.”

“What makes you say that?”

Barry looked towards her bookshelf and gathered his thoughts for a moment. He folded his hands in his lap and returned his gaze to Dr. Fletcher, who was waiting patiently to hear what he had to say.

“Why else would some of the others know about this girl, and I don’t? It’s weird, right?” Barry asked for her feedback.

Dr. Fletcher removed her hand from her chin and gestured an _I-don’t-know_ motion.

“And look at my hair,” he rubbed his nearly-bald head. “My gorgeous hair, someone cut it, the bastard.”

Dr. Fletcher found this highly unusual, indeed. This loss of control was obviously alarming to him. It was disturbing to Dr. Fletcher, as well. Barry was a leader… a refined, intelligent leader with excellent problem-solving skills and judgment. For someone else to take the light, someone without the experience and the know-how, it could have significant consequences.

“I get this feeling that, I’m out of the loop with something. The whispering… I don’t like it. It makes me feel like there’s a secret that someone is keeping from me.”

“Who do you think it is? I know you said that the voices were indistinguishable, but do you have any ideas?” she narrowed her eyes as she tried to consider who could be doing this, as well.

Barry sucked on his lips. “I have thoughts, but no solid proof. All I know, for sure, is that Jade, Orwell, and Samuel don’t know what’s going on either, but they’ve heard it, too.”

“This is the first that I’m hearing of secrets amongst you and the others,” Dr. Fletcher expressed.

“Ever since The Horde started with their ideas, it’s been different.”

“The who?” she furrowed her brows in confusion.

“The Horde,” Barry repeated. “It’s what we’ve started calling Dennis, Patricia, and the boy.”

“Why ‘The Horde’?” Dr. Fletcher felt goosebumps form beneath her clothing at the name.

“They’re a pack of misfits,” Barry explained with resentment. “Their beliefs about the Beast cause them to appear far more unstable than Kevin ever was, even with all of us in existence.”

“I take it they still speak of the Beast?”

“Oh, yeah,” Barry nodded his head. “Hedwig is too young and scared to know any better. I think these stories about the Beast scare him, and he figures if he pleases Dennis and Patricia that he’ll be spared somehow.”

“Spared from what?”

“I don’t know. Extermination? They’re so certain that the Beast is going to rid the world of the impure, and I think they scare him into pledging some sort of allegiance.”

“Have _you_ seen or heard the Beast?” Dr. Fletcher nodded at him.

“Me? Oh, God, no.” Barry snorted. “It’s a crazy story, a way for them to try and gain control.” Barry reflected on his own statement. “Do you think they’re taking over? Do you think that’s why I can’t remember?”

“It’s difficult to say,” Dr. Fletcher answered honestly. “What evidence do you have to suggest it’s the Horde, as you called them?”

He shook his head. “I don’t. That’s just the thing. Aside from hearing that she’s a pretty girl, I know that’s Dennis’s thing… But I don’t see how Patricia or Hedwig would be involved with that. They’re more concerned with the Beast and cleansing the world of the impure, not finding pretty girls.” He thought some more, “Besides, Dennis and Patricia have been banned from the light for so long, it couldn’t be them.”

“And you’re certain it’s more than one alter?”

“It’s more than one talking about her, yeah. Now, is it more than one of them stealing the light? I don’t know. All of them deny being in the light.” Barry shook his head in bewilderment. “Someone is lying to me, Dr. Fletcher. And I don’t know why.”

“What do you think this all means?” Dr. Fletcher was interested in his analysis.

“I think it means we’re in for a world of trouble.” Barry leaned forward, speaking just above a whisper, as if the others might hear him if he spoke any louder. “I think someone has discovered how to take control from me, and I’m the only one who knows how to keep order.”

“If someone else were to gain control, it would be chaos for you. For all of you,” Dr. Fletcher repeated his concerns.

“For all of _us,_ Dr. Fletcher,” he corrected her. She cocked her head to the side like a curious puppy. “If someone else takes over, someone with those kinds of ideologies… it’ll be hell on earth.”

“Who do you think is most capable of taking the light from you?”


	14. A Special Gift

 

 

"Are you awake?” Abby heard a whispering voice come from the other side of her door.

She sat up on her bed. She hadn’t been sleeping. She had no idea if it was day or night. She hadn’t known since she arrived. She didn’t know if she had been here for three days or three weeks. Her days ran together with no distinction from one to the next.

“It’th me,” the voice muttered again.

“Hedwig?” Abby probed.

“Yeah.”

Abby walked over to the door and knelt down on her knees. She peered through the crack at the edge and saw the man on the other side stooped in front of the door, too.

“I brought you thomething,” he informed her, unaware that she was watching him.

“What is it?” she asked.

Hedwig shuffled some things around him. “I’ll thlide it under the door.”

Some more rustling preceded the reveal of his present to her. Abby looked down at the large papers being slid to her from the other side.

“I filled them in and made them pretty for you,” he explained.

Abby picked up the papers and turned them over. It was her drawings of the two windows: one opened, one closed. A green hill and blue sky with white, squiggly clouds were colored in a relatively even fashion. Abby began to cry as she considered the possibility that she may never see a blue sky again. She covered her mouth with her hand to stifle the sounds of her crying. Her eyes clamped shut as she internally screamed the heartache she felt.

“You thaid you wanted a window becauthe we didn’t have any,” Hedwig reminded her. “Tho, I finished your window and drew you a picture of out-thide. It’th nithe, right?”

Abby released the grip from her mouth and took a breath. “Yeah, it’s really nice, Hedwig. Thanks,” she feigned her gratitude.

There was a brief pause before Hedwig asked, “Are… are you crying?”

Abby brushed the tears away with her fingers and sniffled. “Nooo,” she called out, elongating the word more than intended due to the uncontrollable sob that escaped her throat.

Another pause. “It’th okay,” he soothed. “I cry too, thometimeth.”

Abby leaned her head against the door, suddenly feeling a loss of energy. “Yeah?”

“Yeah,” he assured her. He turned around in his crouched position and slumped his butt to the floor. He leaned his back and head against the door, looking up towards the ceiling as he spoke. “One time, I wath running in the houthe, which I’m not thuppothed to, and I thtubbed my toe right off the table.” His voice inflected at the end as if he had been surprised that it happened. “I cried for like… a whole minute… but then I wath okay.”

Abby listened only because she had to. There was no escape from him or this room. At least her conversations with Hedwig were innocent. Hedwig was naïve. Abby wondered how he could remain so pure and innocent despite the wickedness of the two other occupants. Then, she remembered the conversation between Dennis and Patricia. Maybe Hedwig wasn’t so innocent after all.

“I cry when I get hurt,” he clarified. “Mith Patricia thayth if I didn’t make thilly mithtaketh… if I wath more careful… I wouldn’t get hurt.”

“Miss Patricia isn’t very nice,” Abby admitted sadly.

“She thtarted thinging to me. But she’th not good, like you,” Hedwig said. “But, you thee? I cry too. What kind of thingth make you cry?”

Abby sat up again and looked up at the ceiling. “This place makes me cry,” she admitted but immediately regretted saying it for fear of upsetting him. Luckily, he didn’t respond. She started listing other things that make her cry. “I guess I cry when I’m hurt, too… when I stub my toes, when people say mean things, when I’m lonely… etcetera.”

“What ith ‘et-thet-era’?” he sounded out the word.

“Etcetera?” Abby asked. Although she couldn’t see, Hedwig nodded his head. “It means… so on and so forth.”

“Huh,” Hedwig contemplated with curiosity. “I like the thound of that. Et-thet-era… et-THET-era…et-thet-eraaaaa,” he said the word with different inflections and repeated until he mastered the word.

“You got it,” Abby confirmed.

“Tho, why were you crying jutht now?”

She sighed and shook her head. “I don’t want to be here, Hedwig. I’m scared. The others… they scare me… they aren’t nice to me.” She decided she would try again to convince him to help her. “From what I heard earlier, Miss Patricia isn’t very nice to you either. You’re not stupid, Hedwig.”

“You think I’m thmart? Et-thet-era?” he asked in a solemn voice, sounding like he, himself, was about to cry.

“You knew I was crying, didn’t you?”

He smiled. “Yeah, I did.”

Abby smiled slightly at the perkier sound of his voice. If she could keep him happy and build him up, perhaps he would be loyal to her. _That was Dennis’s and Patricia’s plan, wasn’t it? If he’s not happy, they’re not happy._ The only way she was going to get out of here would be if one of them decided to let her out. She knew for sure these two doors were locked. She had no idea how many locked doors there would be between her and the way out.

“Hedwig, you said something earlier that I didn’t understand.”

“What did I thay?”

“You said Jade was sleeping, and that she’d sleep as long as you’d want her to.”

“Yeah?” he said, questioning what part of that was confusing to her.

“What did you mean? Who is she?”

“She’th one of the otherth who wantth the light.”

“What light?”

“It’th like… a thpecial power. Barry, he uthed to be in the light, but then, I found out I could take the light any time I wanted. If I don’t want thomeone to be in the light, I can make them go to thleep in their chair. That’th why Mithter Dennith and Mith Patricia thay I can be with them. Tho we can make the other oneth thleep… et-thet-era.”

Abby was learning about more identities and starting to piece this whole character/sleep/chair thing together. She needed to get to one of the others. She needed someone who could help her. From the sounds of it, there were a few dominant personalities who have taken over. If she could get the sleeping ones to wake up, they could help her.

“Why do you make them go to sleep?” Abby asked, her ears more alert now as she was gathering information.

“Becauthe they’ll try to thtop the Beatht, and Mith Patricia thayth that when the Beatht cometh, no one will make fun of me anymore. She thayth that the Beatht will make the world better, and that we’ll rule it, and et-thet-era. Ithn’t that great?”

This Beast talk was irrational. They believed it, and that made them dangerous. Abby decided not to question it in order to keep him spilling secrets.

“How many others are sleeping, Hedwig?”

“Uuuuhhh,” Hedwig thought out loud and began to count on his fingers. “Right noooooow… there’th… like… twenty.”

Abby sat up and leaned forward. She turned her head and looked over her shoulder at the door.

“Did you say twenty?”

“Yeah.”

“Twenty? Like… two-zero?”

“Yeah, unleth you know another kind of twenty,” he snickered.

 _Twenty sleeping identities._ That was A LOT of potential help.

“Hedwig… could I talk to one of them?” Abby turned around and sat on her knees again, adrenaline suddenly pumping through her veins at the thought of obtaining help.

“Why? You don’t want to talk to me anymore?” Hedwig sounded offended.

“No, of course I do,” Abby quickly recovered. “I just mean… I need to ask them something… it’s grown-up stuff…”

“I’ll go get Mithter Dennith… he’th good at explaining thingth...and he’th an adult, et-thet-era.”

Abby heard Hedwig get up, and she quickly starting hitting the door to grab his attention. “Nonononono. Not Dennis, not Dennis,” Abby said. “Someone else.”

“Mith Patricia?” Hedwig asked.

“No, someone other than them.”

“Nooooo,” he said with some reluctance, “I’m not thuppothed to talk to anyone elthe.”

Abby implored him. “Barry, I want to talk to Barry.”

After all, Hedwig did say that Barry used to have control. Maybe if Barry woke up, he could take control again and help her. Everything went quiet. Hedwig didn’t respond.

“Hedwig, I want to talk to Barry. Wake him up. Please.”

Abby looked through the crack of the door to see what Hedwig was doing, why he wasn’t responding. When she looked through the narrow slit, she saw a pair of dark, malevolent eyes staring back at her. Startled, Abby gasped and leaned away from the door. This wasn’t Hedwig.

“I know what you’re trying to do,” Patricia spoke softly through the door. “You can call him all you like, dear, but he can’t hear you.”

If Abby wasn’t on Patricia’s bad side before, surely she was now.


	15. The Kiss

 

Abby was on the floor, doing crunches, to pass the time. The cement was cold on her barely clothed body, but she felt as if she were losing her mind staring at these blank walls day in and day out. Her stomach grumbled. She hadn’t remembered the last time she had eaten. Patricia had been bringing her food less frequently despite the fact that she was checking in on her more than usual. In Abby’s eyes, this was a punishment for trying to get Hedwig to help her. Patricia felt the need to keep a watchful eye on Abby for being _“too clever for her own good.”_ Luckily, Hedwig had been sneaking her snacks here and there. It had been a day or two since she had seen him, though, and Abby wondered if he had been discovered and gotten into trouble.

She was consumed by her own thoughts and the sound of her breathing that she hadn’t noticed the door open until he cleared his throat. Abby stopped and sat up, peeking over the edge of the bed at the man standing in the doorway. She stood up, wondering if he was going to tell her to dance again.

When he saw her bare legs, he inhaled sharply and straightened his shoulders. It was almost as if he had caught her scent and was on high alert. Instinctually, she clasped her hands together and held them in front of her underwear as a barrier. Dennis placed his hands in his pockets and licked his lips. For some reason, every time he saw her he felt butterflies in his stomach and his mouth went dry. He was confused at these sensations, for they were so new and unfamiliar to him. He had looked at girls before, even more naked than she, and never felt these feelings.

“Are you hungry?” he finally looked at her face.

Abby nodded her head and wrapped her arms around herself, a sudden chill from the open door seeping in and touching her skin. She shivered and fought against herself to not show it.

“Come on,” Dennis said, turning around and walking into the second room.

Abby hesitated for a split second. He was letting her out of her room. He was _actually_ letting her out of her room. Cautiously, she walked toward the door but stopped when she did not see him. She stood in the doorway, worried that this was some sort of trick. Dennis emerged from the wall of clothing with a white, plush robe. He opened it up and held it out for her. He nodded his head, signaling Abby to turn around so that he could help guide her arms into the sleeves. She didn’t need to be told twice.

The robe was soft and warm, a welcome change from what she had been wearing the past several days. His hand lingered a few seconds too long on her shoulders as she slipped into the robe, and he pulled his hands back as she tied the robe shut. He wanted to touch her more, to have contact with her longer, but Patricia’s voice kept reminding him that she was for the Beast. He leaned forward to smell her hair. _That heavenly scent…_

“Thank you,” she turned her head to face him, not expecting his lips to be so close to hers.

Abby went to step away from him, but his arm wrapped around her body to keep her close while his other hand flung up to her throat and lightly grasped it, holding her in place, his mouth just inches from hers. She did not fight him. He stared at her lips, wanting to kiss them, to feel her mouth pressed against his own, to feel wanted and needed. Her full lips looked soft and inviting, and he imagined that kissing them would be pure ecstasy.

His breath smelled of mint. His touch was much gentler than it had been when she was first brought here… firm enough to show control, but soft enough to be tender at the same time. Abby looked into his eyes, half apprehensive and half turned on. He was handsome, and it was obvious that he was attracted to her. She had never been held like this before, and her heart raced in anticipation.

He leaned in closer, and Abby closed her eyes, expecting his lips to come crashing down onto hers. She almost hoped for it in this moment.

“I’m trying to be good,” he said, his hot breath hitting her mouth.

She opened her eyes and observed the pained look on his face. He seemed to be fighting his own demons. Abby believed him when he said he was trying to be good. She could see the fire in his eyes, the desire on his quivering bottom lip, and felt the gentle caress of his hands as they gradually slipped away. He slowly retracted his hands from her body and stepped away from her to open the second door that led to the hallway.

Abby released her breath and wiped her forehead, confused, herself, as to the feelings she just had. She had _wanted_ him to kiss her. Her neck still felt hot from where his fingers held her. She lowered her hand to her neck and squeezed her thighs together to sooth the tingling sensation. The vein in her neck was pulsating, throbbing at having been touched in such an intimate way.

 _What is the matter with me?_ she thought to herself.

Dennis opened the door and held his hand out to her. She stepped forward, allowing him to guide her out the door, his hand on her lower back.

“In here,” he pointed to the kitchen.

He pulled out a wooden chair from the square dinette table. Abby sat and allowed him to push the chair in for her.

“Thank you.”

Abby watched him carefully move about the tiny kitchen, wondering where this sudden change in demeanor came from. She couldn’t help but notice the attractive curve of his back as he opened a cupboard and stretched up high for a mug.

“Coffee?” he asked without looking at her.

“Hmm?” she snapped out of her daze. “Oh. Please.”

He retrieved another mug and promptly poured two cups of coffee from the carafe that sat on the countertop. He walked one over to her and placed it on the tabletop, turning the mug a fraction of a degree to perfectly align the handle with the straight edge of the table. Abby watched him do so without muttering a word. He then retrieved a small bowl of cut fruit covered in plastic wrap from the refrigerator. He unwrapped it and grabbed a fork and spoon from a drawer, placing all items in front of Abby, lining them flawlessly in front of the mug of coffee. Lastly, he brought powdered creamer and sugar to the table before grabbing his own mug.

He sat at the end of the table perpendicular to Abby, his chair somewhat angled to face her. Once she saw that he was settled in his place, she reached forward for the creamer and sugar, careful to not spill any onto the table. She stirred her coffee with the spoon, the occasional _clink_ of the metal on ceramic breaking the silence.

“Patricia informs me that you find your accommodations less than satisfactory,” Dennis eyed her.

Abby stopped stirring and looked at Dennis, trying to read the emotionless expression on his face. She wasn’t sure if she should answer or if this was a one-sided conversation.

“I’m trying my best,” Dennis sighed, taking a sip of his black coffee before placing the mug on the tabletop again, turning it to align the handle. “It’s impossible to please everyone.”

Abby scraped the edge of her spoon against the rim of her mug to catch the droplets of coffee before placing the spoon on the table. She tried to think of something to say but had nothing, opting to take a sip so she wouldn’t have to talk. The coffee was too hot, burning her tongue and the roof of her mouth, but she dared not to complain. She set the mug back on the table, careful to fix it perfectly as Dennis had made it before, and folded her hands in her lap.

“All the world wants something,” he said, staring blankly at the coffee mug, “and some want the whole world.”

Dennis had been having doubts about the Beast and what He truly wanted. Patricia was dead set on a baby, a new creation to mark the beginning of a new, pure world. Those words were hers; Dennis had never heard the Beast say it, and he had listened to Patricia for too long to ever doubt her. But the Beast had become silent to Dennis. He wondered if the Beast was dormant or if his own desires had cast a shadow over the Beast and drowned out His voice. His expression appeared somber as he looked ahead. It was then that it registered to Abby.

“I remember you,” she said faintly.

His eyes shot up to hers, fully attentive.

“The man on the bus,” she said, “I remember you now.”

She recalled their interaction that day on the bus. She recollected being attracted to him then and trying to flirt with him, but he had seemed uninterested and distant. He had been somewhat odd and isolative.

“You said the world owes some people,” she softly reminded him of their conversation. “What does it owe you?”

Dennis was hypnotized by her doe eyes and angelic voice. No one had ever asked him that question before. It was always Kevin, and then the Beast. No one had ever asked or cared to know what _he_ wanted. Patricia was always so quick to remind him _“This isn’t for you. She isn’t for you.”_

Without warning, he sprung forward from his chair and wrapped his hands around the back of her neck, pulling her lips to his in an instant collision of rapture. He grabbed a fistful of her hair, feeling the silken strands between his fingers. Abby was surprised at first, jumping at his sudden movement, but had nowhere to go. She was in the chair and his body was in front of her, blocking her from being able to kick or run. Strangely enough, though, she didn’t want to. She grasped his hands at first, reactively attempting to loosen his stronghold. He dominantly pulled her hair back, making her bend her neck to raise her face up to allow him better access. Her gasp was muffled by his mouth enclosing hers.

His tongue found its way into her mouth, passionately dancing with hers. She allowed it, closing her eyes and relaxing her shoulders and neck. One of his hands released her hair and found its way to her breast. Abby winced, his embrace a little too forceful, and her hand instantly grabbed his to try and pull it away. He resisted against her, continuing to knead her breast and tug on her hair to keep her head at the perfect angle for him to kiss her. She moaned against his mouth, trying to tell him to stop as she continued to push at his hand.

Dennis immediately pulled back from her, his hands still resting behind her neck and on her breast. Abby’s eyes were widened, but it was something aside from fear. Their breathing was labored. As if he had been unaware of his hand’s placement, he looked down and jerked his hand away from her chest. His hand unraveled from her hair, his fingers lightly sliding down the soft locks for one last feel before he got to the ends and they fell in lightly curled tendrils over her chest.

“I’m sorry,” he breathed in a husky whisper. He stood up and rubbed the top and back of his head, wishing he still had his longer hair to grab onto something. “I’m sorry,” he panted as he walked over to the sink and grasped the edge, hanging his head in both shame and frustration.

Abby’s fingers shifted up to her lips, lightly rubbing them with the pads of her fingers, surprised that she wanted more.


	16. Budding Feelings

 

Days turned into weeks. Abby knew the statistics. She knew that her odds of being found and rescued lowered every day she went another twenty-four hours off the radar.

Abby actually began to look forward to her visits from Hedwig. He would bring her snacks and things to keep her busy. He gave her a deck of cards and a sketchpad with a few colored pencils. He brought her pictures that he drew or colored and taped them up on the drywall. The most recent drawing was of a Christmas tree with her and Hedwig standing next to each other.

She still hadn’t met the Beast. Not that she really expected to, though. The accounts that Hedwig told her were campfire stories at best. A creature much larger than a human, with a long mane of hair, and fingers twice the length of theirs. Hedwig seemed excited when he talked about the coming of the Beast. He assured Abby that she wouldn’t need to be afraid, because they were friends.

Patricia maintained that the Beast was making his preparations, but he just wasn’t ready to be revealed yet. She talked about Abby’s purpose, telling her how important she was and how her child with the Beast would be loved by all. Dennis remained rather silent about the whole ordeal, hardly mentioning anything about the Beast at all.

Abby had had some uncomfortable experiences with the man. Patricia, every so often, would bring Abby a razor and tell her to shave, just in case this was the week that the Beast decided to come. _“There’s only enough room here for one hairy beast,”_ she would say. Ever since that night that Patricia had caught her trying to summon one of the others, she had grown increasingly crass towards Abby. Her passive aggressiveness was usually made up for by Hedwig’s adoration towards Abby.

The most awkward time came when Abby had gotten her period. She had bled in the night through her underwear and onto the bedding. Dennis seemed to be more embarrassed than Abby had been; and, in that moment, Abby had wanted to die. He had needed to send Patricia to the store for feminine hygiene products— which he knew nothing about. Two good things came from that experience: Abby was given fresh clothes, and for that entire week, Dennis left her alone and did not once ask her to dance. As if someone had been keeping track of her cycle, though, he resumed the nightly ritual as soon as her period was over.

Dancing for him had sort of become a routine. Abby found that as long as she was compliant, she was safe. It never went any further than dancing. In a way, Abby had hoped it would. She started to take more care in how she moved around Dennis, wanting to ensure that he enjoyed the show that she put on. Ever since that morning that he grabbed her and took control, kissed her passionately, she had wanted more. He had sent jolts of electricity through her body, and she just felt something with him now that she couldn’t explain. But, he had been adamant every night that he was trying to be good and that Patricia continuously reminded him that Abby was for the Beast and he wasn’t allowed to touch her.

 ------------------------------------------------------------------------------

 

Abby sat cross-legged on her cot, flicking cards across the room and trying to make them into the cleaning bucket. More cards were on the floor than in the bucket, but it was at least helping her to pass the time.

The familiar clattering of keys could be heard coming towards her bedroom door. By this point, it no longer alarmed her. It was either Hedwig with some story or game to play, Dennis looking for a peep show, or Patricia with some insult and daily reminder of how important her role is in the creation of a new world.

Dennis opened her door. His eyes immediately landed on the cards that were strewn across the floor in a scattered mess. To keep him content and calm, Abby had learned to clean messes quickly. She immediately stood from the bed when she saw him and gathered the cards from the floor.

“Sorry,” she said, sliding the cards into one pile and then picking them up and disposing of them in the bucket.

She stood again and brushed her hands together, waiting for him to talk. He looked at her without speaking, and she felt a strange fluttering in her stomach. Abby tilted her head in a questioning gesture, feeling awkward at their shared exchange of silence. Dennis turned on his heel and walked out of the room, leaving the door open as he disappeared around the corner. Abby was confused, uncertain if he wanted her to follow or if he just needed a brief retreat from the awkwardness.

When Dennis returned to the room a few seconds later, he was carrying a relatively large box wrapped in pretty red and green striped paper with a large, red bow attached to the top. He stood in the doorway and looked at her again, raising the box slightly and nodding at her, signaling that the gift was for her.

“For me?” Abby asked, pointing at herself.

Dennis nodded his head and lowered his eyes to the present.

Abby couldn’t help but smile at the gesture. It had been years since she received a present. It was easy enough to be forgotten in a big city, especially with no family around. She stepped forward and took the wrapped box from his hands. Abby could tell he was out of his element. This action felt probably just as foreign to him as it did to her.

“Merry Christmas,” he said, rubbing the back of his head nervously.

Abby paused in her tracks and looked at him, surprised. Slowly, she finished her way to the cot and sat down, holding the box in her lap.

“It’s Christmas?” Abby asked.

Dennis said nothing. He put his hands in his pants pockets and watched her. If it really was Christmas, she had been here for over a month. She looked at the paper and dragged her hands across the top. It was wrapped so perfectly, too pretty to be ripped open. Dennis watched her gracefully trace her fingers over the paper and feel the soft velvetiness of the bow. He felt as if he did something right.

“Open it,” Dennis gave her permission, reading her movements accurately.

Abby snapped out of her daze and glanced up at him, giving a reassuring smile before tearing the paper to reveal what lied beneath. A plain white box. She shifted the box beside her and grasped the edges, gently shaking it so the bottom fell out from being tucked into the thin, cardboard lid. She was surprised to see that he even used holiday tissue paper on the inside.

Brushing the tissue paper aside, she found a pair of black stiletto heels lying on top of a black, lacey dress. She removed the shoes from the box and examined them. _An eight and a half. Just the right size_. Abby heard Dennis’s rhythmic, deep breaths as he observed her. She felt the lacey fabric between her fingers and lifted the dress from the box.

It was longer than she expected it to be, especially coming from Dennis. She held it against herself and found that it rested just above her knees. The three-quarter sleeves were made entirely of lace and rested slightly off-shoulder. The body of the dress appeared to be form-fitting. It, too, was covered in the same lace as the sleeves, but it had a silky material beneath it to make it more opaque over the body. The neckline formed an elegant and subtle angle towards her breasts.

“I want you to wear it tonight,” Dennis finally spoke. “For dinner.”

Abby’s eyes met his. He had that typical hungry stare that he always did, but it no longer seemed revolting or menacing.

“Of course,” Abby agreed, looking back down at the sleek outfit. “Thank you, Dennis.”

He closed his eyes and nodded his head, his own way of telling her she was welcome. Dennis looked at her and bit the inside of his lip. “Put it on.”

Abby wasn’t sure if he meant to strip and put it on right now or if she was allowed to go into the bathroom and maintain some modesty. Regardless, him seeing her in her underwear was nothing new. But, the feeling of this event was different. This seemed more intimate. She took a few steps forward towards the bathroom.

When he didn’t stop her, she said, “Okay,” and walked into the bathroom and closed the door.

Abby slid out of her jeans and t-shirt, something that she was thankful to have back with the cold air that often swept through the walls. She unzipped the dress and pulled it over her head, wiggling her hips as she pulled the tightest part down over her backside. She reached behind her and zipped the dress as best she could but was unable to zip it completely.

She looked at herself in the mirror. The neckline was stunning. It accentuated her slender neck. However, it did not look right with her bra straps visibly noticeable. Abby pushed the straps down over her shoulders to her upper arms. She turned this way and that, looking to see if they would be hidden from view from the back. It would be close, but they would most likely be hidden. However, she already felt herself slipping out of the bra. It was highly uncomfortable on her chest, her bra just loosely covering herself.

Abby slipped her arms out of the sleeves and allowed the dress to hang down on her torso as she removed her bra completely. She brought the dress back up and zipped it as far as she could. She leaned forward and adjusted herself beneath the soft, cool material. The dress was tight enough in just the right places that it would hold her breasts up, allowing for a nice amount of cleavage.

She smoothed out the front of her dress and turned around once more, checking to make sure that everything was down and looked appropriate. She then brushed her hair and smoothed some fly-aways. She pinched her cheeks to add some color to them.

 _Wait. What am I doing?_ Abby thought. She felt like she was getting ready for a date. She smoothed her hair down once more and slipped into the heels, adding about three or four inches to her height. She then turned to open the door and exit the bathroom.

Dennis was still in the bedroom, sitting at the foot of her bed. When he saw her emerge, he stood up and admired the beauty that he saw before him. His heartbeat sped up and his palms felt clammy. He placed his hands in the pocket of his pants, fearful that if they were free they would touch her.

“I couldn’t reach the zipper,” Abby said. “Could you?” She turned her back to him and waited.

His breath hitched and he cleared his throat. She swept her hair away from her back and off to one side, revealing the subtle dip and curve of her spine. His eyes followed all the way down to her buttocks. Dennis swallowed hard. When she turned her head and looked back at him to see if he was coming, his heart fluttered and his groin twitched.

He removed his hands from his pockets and slowly made his way to her. She turned back around and faced away from him. He lightly pinched the bridge of his nose and shut his eyes, reminding himself to not touch her. _She’s for the Beast. She’s for the Beast. She’s for the Beast. Be good. Be good. Be good._ He opened his eyes, stretched his jaw and wiped his hand over his mouth and roughly rubbed his chin. He finally exhaled.

He tried to zip her dress by holding onto the zipper only, but the slack of the open fabric was too baggy to allow him to complete the job with one hand. He lightly placed his hand on the fabric to pull it together and carefully pulled the zipper upward. His fingers grazed her bare skin accidentally at first, but he did nothing to prevent it from happening again as he continued to gradually zip the dress.

His fingers felt warm on Abby’s back. She was taken aback at his gentleness: at how he cautiously handled the delicate material, at how he softly rubbed the skin on her back as his hand trailed upward. She could tell from his uneven breathing that this was difficult for him. She bit her bottom lip, getting that tingling feeling again between her legs.

It took everything within him to not rip the dress from her body and take her right then and there. The curves of her body in combination with the lace made it almost unbearable, and he wondered why he punished himself by getting this for her… knowing he couldn’t have her. Her skin felt so soft, and she didn’t shudder away from his touch. He wondered how much longer he would be able to control himself, hoping for both the Beast to arrive to relieve him of these feelings but also for the Beast to stay away so he could have her all to himself for a bit longer.


	17. Dance With Me

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> *warning* Sexual Content ;)

 

 

Dennis led Abby to the dining room with his hand on her lower back. She was surprised to see two lit candles in silver candlesticks placed on the center of the round wooden table. There were also two wine glasses filled halfway and an open bottle of Moscato. The lighting of the room was soft, almost, dare she say, romantic. She couldn’t help but smile some at the perfect setup.

Abby was impressed. It appeared that Dennis was trying. He was trying to make this Christmas dinner special for her, to make her feel welcome and safe and important. She had been so taken aback by his efforts that she hadn’t noticed he had stepped away from her to turn on the stereo. Music played softly a tune that she recognized from long ago: “I’ll Be Home for Christmas.”

She turned around to face the direction of the music and saw Dennis leaning against the doorframe, hands in his pockets, eyeing her from bottom to top. He had lust and desire in his eyes, and Abby couldn’t help but feel flattered and somewhat turned on. He looked handsome, his button-up shirt tight around his torso and muscular arms, his pants perfectly ironed and creased. His tongue darted out and lightly licked his bottom lip as he sighed. Abby subconsciously did the same.

Her hourglass figure was perfection. The way her dress clung to her shapely hips and rested above her knees had him hypnotized. Her legs were slender and her calves appeared more muscular with her high heels making her stand on tiptoes. Her hair was brushed to one side and rested beside her cleavage. Her chest moved up and down with every breath she took and held his attention. Her lack of bra and the cool air of the room made her nipples harden and visible through the thin fabric of her dress. The sight of this made his breath get caught in his throat.

His gaze finally made it up to her face. Her lips were slightly parted as she stared back at him. His eyes locked with hers. This time, she didn’t look away. Pushing his shoulder off of the doorframe, Dennis slowly approached her. She remained still and waited for him. He cautiously reached forward and felt the very ends of her hair, so soft and thick.

Abby’s heart raced at this different side of him. He had the ability to be both daunting and tantalizing at the same time. Abby breathed in his scent and noticed something new; he was wearing cologne. The fragrance was quite nice and inviting, like a zesty mixture of vanilla, lemon, and lavender.

“Dance with me,” his deep voice sent shivers down her spine.

His tone was unclear whether it was a request or a command. However, it did not matter to Abby. In this moment, she wanted to dance with him. She wanted to touch him and be touched by him.

Abby placed one of her hands in his. It was a different sensation for a woman to willingly hold his hand. He looked down at their hands and watched Abby as she gently took his other hand and guided it behind her to her lower back before placing her own hand on his shoulder. They could feel the heat from each other.

Their bodies slowly began to move in unison to the music. They silently studied each other’s faces. This was the longest Abby had spent looking directly at him. The fine lines above his eyes and around his mouth showed years of misery. There was a story in those deep blue eyes of his, and Abby found herself curious to know it.

She felt sad for him. Not wanting to upset him by showing her tears, she lowered her head to his shoulder and rested her cheek against him as they continued to sway. Her own memories came flooding back.

 

_Abby was 10-years-old. Her brother, Adam, was six. It was Christmas Eve, and they were dressed in their holiday best. Adam wore a dapper suit and tie while Abby wore an ivory and gold dress with a red, velvety bow around her waist. Adam stood on her feet as they giggled and danced to the Christmas music that filled the living room._

_Their parents were too busy entertaining family that they hadn’t noticed them sneak outside with their vintage wooden sled. It was late and dark, and the children would hardly be seen with the guise of the clouded winter night’s sky._

_It was snowing and frigid, too cold to be outside without their coats and mittens, but they were children and excited to play in the fresh, crisp snow. Adam climbed onto Abby’s back as she laid her belly on the wooden sled and wrapped her frozen fingers around the steering handle. The added weight of two bodies on the sled made it fly faster than either of them had ever gone down that hill before. They giggled and shrieked with delight as they surpassed their previous distances accomplished on this sled._

_They were going too fast to stop. The distance between them and the frozen pond became shorter and shorter. Abby panicked and tried to steer the sled away, but the rusted clasp broke and rendered the handle useless. The sled skidded onto the frozen surface. Ice crunched beneath the metal blades as they finally came to a stop about halfway across the pond._

_Abby and Adam were as still as statues. They knew they weren’t supposed to play outside alone, and they certainly knew they weren’t allowed to play around the pond. Abby had assured him that they would be okay, they just needed to be slow to steady to get back to the yard._

_Adam slid off of her back and stood up first, whimpering as cold tears glided down his quivering cheeks. Abby stood and heard the terrifying sound of crunching and breaking ice beneath her. Adam panicked at the sound and tried to run as fast as he could to get off of the ice. She had tried to stop him, but it was too late. The ice gave way beneath them both and they fell into the arctic water._

_The subzero temperature felt like a thousand knives stabbing her all over her body, causing her lungs to ache and feel dreadfully heavy. Adam’s screaming faded in and out as she struggled to get to the surface to help him…_

Abby cried silently against Dennis’s shoulder and squeezed her eyes tightly, trying to shut out the memory that she had been pulled back into. Dennis heard and felt her take a shaky breath and placed his hands on her arms, stepping back so he could examine her. He saw the tears and the hurt in her eyes but knew that it wasn’t from him. She had been through something, something terrible. She was pure after all. The way she looked at him almost seemed like she was pleading for him to make it go away.

Dennis gingerly raised his hand to her face and brushed her tears away with the pad of his thumb. He placed the palm of his hand against her cheek and combed his fingers in her hair, gently rubbing his thumb under her eyes to sweep away her pain. She pressed her lips together in an attempt to smile.

Even when she cried she was beautiful. Her cheeks and eyes were redder now, but those full, pouty lips looked so plump and in desperate need of kissing. Dennis lowered his sight to her bottom lip, slowly grazing it with the pad of his thumb from one side to the other. Abby looked up at him and held her breath, not remembering the last time she had been touched so delicately. Her jaw went slack, relaxing at the sweet caress of his touch.

His eyes stared at her lips as he stroked them over again, painstakingly slow. The tip of his thumb rested in the partition between her lips, and Abby found herself faintly puckering her lips to kiss it. Dennis’s breathing became more intense. His chest rose and fell dramatically. Abby took his wrist in her hand and turned her head to place the palm of his hand against her lips as she again kissed him.

Dennis closed his eyes and relished the feeling of her warm breath and soft lips against his skin. His heart pounded against his chest, desperate for her attention, too. His face felt hot and his shirt collar suddenly felt too tight. His stomach felt as if it would float away. He ached for her.

He opened his eyes and looked at her face. She was no longer crying. Her big, blue, doe eyes fluttered and she anxiously chewed on her bottom lip. He couldn’t restrain himself any longer.

Dennis wrapped one hand around the back of her neck and the other around her waist and pulled her into him. He kissed her passionately and held her close as her arms found their way around his shoulders in a returned embrace. He vigorously nuzzled into her neck, leaving hot trails of kisses along her jaw line, neck, and collarbone. Abby closed her eyes and moaned, tilting her head back to allow him access to her sensitive skin. His hands roamed over her body, down her sides, to her hips and thighs. He wanted to touch her between her legs, but her dress was too tight at the knees to lift it. He growled under his breath, growing frustrated, and grasped the hem of the fabric tightly in his hands, ripping it at the seams up the side.

Abby gasped and jumped, that sensual voltage running through her thighs and between her legs at his forcefulness and passion. Cool air traveled up her outer thigh all the way up to her hip as he continued to rip the fabric to gain access to her underneath. She held onto his shoulder and back to keep from falling, her legs feeling too weak to hold her up for much longer. He then looped his finger through the side of her underwear and forcefully yanked it, tearing it so that the cloth fell and hung on one of her legs.

Dennis stood straight again and kissed her hard, his arm wrapped around her waist and his hand found its way under her dress and into her panties. Abby gasped and moaned at the feeling of his fingers on her womanhood. He sighed and moaned into her mouth as he felt her becoming increasingly wet at his touch.

He grabbed a hold of her hips with both hands and began to walk her backwards, guiding her towards the couch as he continued to shower her with kisses. Still showing his control and dominance, he pushed her down to the couch, breaking away from their kiss to admire her erotic state.

Her lips were red from kissing. His five o’clock shadow had scratched her cheeks and her neck, but she said nothing about it. She lowered her head and looked up at him through hooded eyes. Her chest expanded more rapidly as she tried to steady her breathing. He never broke eye contact with her as he worked quickly to undo the first three buttons of his shirt and unbuckle his belt.

Abby kicked off her shoes and spread her legs to allow him to lay on top of her as he fumbled with his zipper to free his erection from his pants. He lowered himself on top of her, resting his forearm by her head and grabbing a fistful of her hair, forcefully pulling her head back again to kiss her neck. With his other hand he grasped his erection and guided it inside of her, his first thrust slow until he was completely inside of her.

Abby opened her mouth wide and let out a silent shriek at the feeling of him filling her. She wrapped her arms around his back and dug her fingernails into the bunched fabric of his shirt. Dennis’s mouth parted and he slammed his eyes shut tightly as he reveled in the warm, tight, wet blissfulness engulfing him.

As he began to thrust into her at a rhythmic pace, he opened his eyes again and looked at her face. Her hands traveled from his back to his shoulders and up to his face. She grasped his cheeks in both of her hands and pulled his face to hers as she lifted her head to meet him halfway. He moved his hand to the back of her head to support her. Their kisses were sloppy and careless, wanting contact with any part of the other they could find.

Dennis released her hair and wrapped his hand around her thigh, pulling her leg up higher to allow him to thrust deeper inside of her. Abby obliged and wrapped her leg around Dennis’s waist, bucking up beneath him to meet him thrust for thrust. Dennis grunted at the heavenly feeling as he felt his climax approaching. Sweat formed on his brow and on his back. His toes curled and his eyes closed tightly as he pumped twice more and then stilled as he came inside of her. He released a loud and lengthy moan as his hips convulsed at the sweet release.

They were both sweaty and out of breath. Dennis collapsed on top of Abby and rested his forehead against hers. He opened his eyes to find her already looking at him, their eyes just a mere two inches apart. He lifted his head away from hers to get a better view of her face. She looked adoringly at him, equally as satisfied as he was. He ran his fingers through her hair, gently brushing a few stray hairs away from her face and behind her ear before kissing her gently again on the lips. Although he knew he should be ashamed of his perversions, he wasn’t. In this moment, everything felt perfect and as it should be.


	18. The Confrontation

 

Patricia sat with perfect posture in a chair across the room. Her lips were puckered as she slowly turned the lemon slice over with a spoon in the cup of tea she held on a fragile saucer. She scraped the edge of the spoon against the rim of the cup, catching little droplets of tea before setting the spoon down on top of a napkin that laid on the end table. Holding her pinky out, she daintily grasped the handle of the cup and took a small sip of the steaming liquid.

She watched the sleeping girl on the couch. Patricia shook her head disapprovingly at the amount of skin that was peeking out from the shreds of fabric draped across her hips. Although the girl was still clothed, her appearance was inappropriate. Laying on her side accentuated her breasts; her cleavage cascaded over the edge of the lacy fabric. Her right leg hung over her left, thankfully covering her most private parts. Her hip and thigh were completely exposed, revealing the absence of undergarments. Patricia’s eyes darted to the floor in front of the couch where she saw the girl’s torn underwear carelessly strewn.

Patricia was no fool. She saw the way Dennis looked at Abby. She knew of his perversions and how he wanted Abby to fulfill them. It was clear what had taken place last night. While Dennis was silent, the sleeping beauty on the couch spoke volumes.

Patricia took another sip as Abby stirred. Her eyes flickered open as she groggily raised her head from where it rested on her curled forearm. She was not yet aware of Patricia’s presence across the room, staring at her.

“My, my, my,” Patricia cooed mockingly.

Abby quickly turned her head and found Patricia sitting across the room, holding a teacup up to her lips. Abby clearly remembered the events from last night and looked down, suddenly aware of how exposed she was to Patricia. She kicked her legs out from beneath her and sat up on the couch, pulling the fabric over her thigh and holding it down to cover herself.

“You’ve been quite the busy bee. Haven’t you?” Patricia smirked, taking another sip.

Abby’s heartrate increased as she stared at Patricia. She felt nervous. This was the same man that she had slept with last night, the same man whom she was starting to develop feelings for, and yet, she despised this part of him. Patricia frightened her more than Dennis ever did. It had to have been her calm demeanor.

“What are you doing?” Abby asked, a feeling in the pit of her stomach warning her to some danger.

Patricia gently placed the cup down on the saucer with a high pitched _clink_ and lowered it to her lap. “I suppose I could ask you the same thing.”

They watched each other carefully. Abby didn’t know how to respond. She didn’t want to say anything that would put her further into harm’s way. She wasn’t sure how much Patricia already knew. Sure, she probably had suspicions… but what facts did she know?

“Your appearance is shameful, dear,” Patricia disapproved. “I am relieved that I was the one to find you sprawled in such a tactless display of depravity rather than poor Hedwig. What a sight for an innocent boy to be subjected to.”

Abby’s throat felt dry and she struggled to swallow. Patricia knew what had happened… she had to. Abby could tell that she was angry. Patricia’s composure and control over her emotions and choice of words made Abby’s hair stand on end.

“I’m not wrong often, Abby, but I am sensible enough to acknowledge when I am.” Patricia shook her head. “And, was I wrong about you,” she sneered.

Abby didn’t know what she was talking about.

“You see,” Patricia licked her lips and set the saucer on the wooden end table beside her chair, “I underestimated you. I, like Dennis, believed you to be special… to be the one who would grace us with new life and bring His vision to fruition.”

Patricia looked down at her black skirt and smoothed it over her legs before clasping her hands and resting them on her lap. Her eyes met Abby’s again.

“Such a shame,” Patricia scorned. “Girls like you surely do know how to use that secret weapon, don’t they?”

“Girls like me?” Abby became defensive.

“Don’t be daft, dear,” Patricia smirked and tilted her head. “A young, pretty thing such as yourself, thrown into a situation in which she has no control… is begging to be taken home… where there is seemingly no escape… where the only way out, is to let someone in,” Patricia cocked an eyebrow in a teasingly suggestive manner, even for Patricia.

“That wasn’t what this was about,” Abby disputed Patricia’s accusation through gritted teeth.

“No?” Patricia raised her eyebrows and dropped her smile momentarily before smirking once more at Abby’s lack of rebuttal. “What was it about then, Abby? Love?”

Abby looked down at her knees and twisted the hem of her torn dress. She wasn’t sure what it was. Not love. It couldn’t be. How can you love someone and be terrified of them at the same time? No, she didn’t love him. She felt… she didn’t know what she felt. She felt sympathy for him. She felt a connection with him. She was attracted to him. This was the need to feel another human being. To be comforted.

“Your attempts to distract Dennis from his duties will be futile. We share the Beast’s vision of a pure world. And I would not want to be in your shoes right now.”

“Why is that?” Abby asked, her pulse evident in her neck.

Patricia smiled and hummed a brief chuckle. Abby hated that. Patricia remained cryptic to enhance the fear factor.

“You know, Patricia,” Abby sighed, suddenly feeling a confidence that she didn’t know where it came from. “I think this Beast of yours doesn’t exist.”

Patricia’s face went blank. The smirk had been wiped clean from her face. Her eyes widened a bit to study Abby’s newfound self-assurance.

“I’ve been here for over a month, and all I ever hear from you is ‘He’s making his preparations. He’ll get here when he gets here.’” Abby shook her head. “Your scary stories are just that. Stories. Now, I know that there are 23 of you, most of which I haven’t had the pleasure to meet because, obviously, you are outnumbered when it comes to your beliefs.” She smiled. “But, Hedwig is a very good story teller. It seems that you underestimate him, too. He pays very good attention to the things that go on around him, and he is all too eager to tell me everything he knows.”

Abby leaned forward and smirked, cocking an eyebrow just as Patricia had done previously. “And Dennis worships the ground that I walk on. I could have him eating out of the palm of my hand. So, pray tell, what power is it that you have over me? Because the next time I mention your name to either of them, I have a feeling they’re going to ask, ‘Patricia, who?’”

“They listen to me,” Patricia calmly stated.

Abby nodded her head. With arrogance, Abby coolly countered, “Like when you told Dennis not to touch me… and then he fucked me on this couch?”

Patricia inhaled sharply and the smirk returned to her face. They both stared at each other with contempt and self-assurance.

“Well, well,” Patricia leaned back in her chair and crossed her arms. “You think you’re pretty clever. You’re right. Hedwig and Dennis adore you in their own ways. They could probably be more easily influenced than I.”

Abby smiled internally and externally at this.

Patricia continued. “Hedwig is a lonely child who fears punishment and consequence. He and I have been building quite a relationship, thanks, in part, to you. He listens to me. He may not understand that he is in a grown man’s body, but you and I do. He finally has someone that he can talk to, other than us… that he can play with... He’s already refused to wake the others for you because he knows deep down that if one of them were to see you, they could take you away from him.”

Abby’s smile started to fade. She hadn’t considered this. She knew that Hedwig adored her. He probably loved her. They played and listened to music and shared stories. Patricia was probably right. A nine-year-old boy in a grown man’s body, who wasn’t allowed to go outside, would be very lonely down here. He would probably be bored, too, with the others inside his head. Abby was a novelty item, an exciting change from the mundane. The chances of him showing her the way out were slim. For one, he was always afraid of getting in trouble, and that did seem to hold him back from carrying out most of the requests that Abby had made of him. For another, he was lonely. And Abby was his only friend.

“And, Dennis,” Patricia hissed his name as she further explained in her smooth and calm British accent. “Dennis is infatuated with you. For years, he has struggled and strived, unsuccessfully, to repress his perversions. And now,” she held her hand out in Abby’s direction, “he has a willing participant to satisfy his needs.”

Abby’s face turned ghost-white. Again, Patricia was right. It was obvious that Dennis struggled to control himself, his sexual desires. Regardless of whether or not she agreed to participate, the chances of him letting her go were also slim. If she was a willing participant, he would keep her here to satisfy his urges any time and every time he felt them. If she refused, he would become angry with her and certainly not acquiesce to any request she made until he got what he wanted. Even then, they would be back to square one: she agrees to sleep with him, he keeps her there for the next time he wants sex.

Patricia leaned forward now in her chair, matching Abby’s earlier movements when she was so cocksure. Abby felt her heart sink and her stomach drop. Abby was no closer to being able to get out of here than she was the first day she arrived. In fact, she was probably even further from it. On day one, she had no enemies. She couldn’t say the same for today.

Abby’s chest rose and fell quickly as her mind and breaths raced. Patricia was a sly devil. It seemed that out of all the underestimating, Abby had done the worst.

“So, you want to know what power I hold over you?” Patricia asked rhetorically as she pushed herself out of her chair.

Abby’s eyes darted to the floor as Patricia slowly walked towards her. She saw Patricia’s veiny, high-heeled feet appear before her and stop. Patricia gently grasped Abby’s chin and pulled her head upwards to look at her. She smirked down at Abby.

“I have the keys.”


	19. A Falling Out

 

Abby held her head low as she walked into her room, Patricia so close on her heels that she could feel her steady breaths on the back of her neck. It was odd that even in such a drab and dreary place, Abby instantly felt more comfortable being back in her room. She lifted her chin and wrapped her arms around her torso when she arrived at the side of her bed, turning to face Patricia.

Patricia stood one step inside the doorway. Her calm expression showing just how much control she really had. Patricia held the ring of keys in both hands, vaguely twiddling with the bedroom key.

“I do hope we can be friends,” Patricia drew out the ‘s’ with a pretentious smile. “There can be only one queen bee to a hive, dear. Remember that.”

Abby didn’t dare talk back at this point. She nodded her head. She had been defeated in their battle of wits. Patricia was highly intelligent and cunning. She was the kind of person who sits and observes quietly while the rest of the world erupts in chaos, just so she can gather information and use it later when everyone else is too distracted and preoccupied with their own thoughts and needs. Patricia had started to turn to walk out of the room when she stopped and turned back again to face Abby.

“And whatever you have going on with Dennis,” she again hissed the name as she spoke slowly and deliberately, “you need to mind yourself. He may have a tough exterior, but he has been through a world of suffering that you couldn’t possibly imagine. If you hurt him, I will break you like a twig. I’ve got my eyes on you.”

Patricia’s smile did nothing to soften the prickly warning. Abby again nodded her head to appease her. Patricia was, indeed, pleased with her cooperation. She closed her eyes and kissed the air, showing her patronizing thankfulness to Abby before exiting the room and locking the door.

Abby finally exhaled. She slumped onto the bed and held her face in her hands. She wondered what Patricia would say to Dennis… if she would say anything at all. It seemed to Abby that Patricia could do one of two things and still be in control. She could reprimand Dennis for his actions last night, put him in place and remind him of his duties. Or, she could remain as silent as the grave about this. She could let Dennis believe he had gotten away with it. She could sit back like the viper that she is and wait to strike at a more opportune moment, whenever that may be.

Patricia removed the key from the lock of the second door and turned to walk towards the bathroom. Her smirk slowly turning into a scowl. She walked with a purpose. She needed to speak with Dennis at once. Patricia walked into the bathroom and rested her hands on the sink. She looked at her reflection in the mirror, searching for Dennis until she found him with his head hanging low, just like Abby’s had been. It was the sign of guilt.

“What were you thinking?” Patricia condemned his behaviors.

Dennis remained silent, having known Patricia so well as to recognize when she was looking for a response and when she was asking rhetorical questions to chastise behavior of which she disapproved.

“What if Hedwig,” she stopped herself. “What if _Barry_ had walked in and found her?”

“Barry’s been asleep for nearly two weeks. He wouldn’t have,” Dennis calmly explained without looking up.

“You are playing with fire,” Patricia began to pace, ignoring his reasoning. “You are becoming careless and sloppy, just like Hedwig.”

Yes, he had let his guard down. But, he flinched when she compared him to Hedwig. Hedwig was naïve and easily tricked. He would know. They have tricked Hedwig together plenty of times for their own benefit. Dennis, while feeling like he melted into a pile of goo around Abby, was not so gullible as to be tricked and manipulated, even by a woman.

“I’m nothing like Hedwig,” he rose his head and stood with his shoulders back. His thick neck pulsated as he felt his anger begin to rise, but he quickly checked himself when remembering that he was speaking with Patricia.

“You males are all the same,” Patricia threw her hand in the air. “You lose all senses when a pretty girl flips her hair in front of you.”

He couldn’t argue that. He loved women, worshipped them, adored them. Their beautiful bodies were like pristine temples that easily brought him to his knees. Their skin was so soft and delicate, so different from his own callused and battered skin. Their curves were so pleasing to the eye. It was never his intent to hurt them or scare them. He just wanted to look at them and touch them, be desired and wanted by them. The years of sexual frustration bestowed upon him to help Kevin get through his own pubescent years caused Dennis great distress when in the presence of such gorgeous creatures. In a way, he was resentful of that. And, Abby, well she…

Patricia distracted him from his train of thoughts. “Do you think that she will be loyal to you now?” Another rhetorical question.

Dennis clenched his fists at his side so hard that he thought his knuckles were going to burst through his skin. Patricia spoke so softly and calmly that it even made Dennis’s hair stand at attention. His ears perked up and he felt a tiny quiver trickle down the back of his neck.

“You stalked her… drugged her,” Patricia added a brief pause between each point for a dramatic effect, listing the reasons as to why Abby’s loyalty would be impossible to gain. “Kidnapped her… intimidated her to disrobe in front of you… coerced her to dance for you… forced yourself upon her…”

Dennis immediately interrupted her at that last point. “She gave herself willingly.”

“She was not yours to have!” Patricia roared, finally losing control of her emotions.

They stared at each other, each one trying to maintain composure in this heated discussion. Patricia smoothed her imaginary hair before calmly continuing.

“She was for the Beast,” she rationalized. “A pure world. Remember? A pure child for a pure world.”

“And whose idea was that?” Dennis looked at her and snapped. “I told you I felt like she had a purpose. You’re the one who is so enthralled at the thought of being a mother that you jumped to conclusions with your baby fever.”

Patricia was taken aback at Dennis’s tone. He had never spoken to her like this before. However, he was right, and Patricia was wise and strong enough to admit that to herself. She could never be a mother on her own. Being the matriarch of the group was as close as she has ever been to being a mother. Dennis had never said anything about a baby. Neither did the Beast, from what she could remember. Is it possible that she has been wrong, all this time, about Abby’s true purpose? A pure child to mark the beginning of a pure world seemed to be the correct path to take.

“Listen to us,” Patricia shook her head in disbelief. “She has hammered a wedge between us.”

Patricia could see that Dennis was becoming more distant from her. His focus these days seemed to be more on Abby rather than on a pure world.

“We never used to argue like this, Dennis,” Patricia pointed out to him. “Not until that trollop came along.”

“Don’t call her that,” Dennis snapped protectively.

Patricia looked at him, mouth slightly agape, as she analyzed his quick response. His jaw was tensed, fists were clenched, and his breathing, while controlled, was heavy. It was beginning to make sense. This was more than just lust and desire. The way he had been acting for the past several weeks, the careless mistakes he had been making, the way he had been distancing himself from Patricia and talks of the Beast…

“You _love_ her,” Patricia said in astonishment.

Dennis didn’t say anything. He didn’t need to. He could never lie to Patricia. She always knew when he was lying. He couldn’t hide his feelings for Abby. It was obvious. He had been around broken women before, but none so perfectly put back together as Abby. There was something about her that made her different from the rest. Something that lassoed his heart and kept him prisoner.

When he didn’t respond, Patricia became irritated. Her breathing became irregular as she tried with all her might to regain the control and poise that she was so used to having… that she had to have.

“You love her,” she repeated more matter-of-factly this time, but still with a hint of disgust in her voice.

Dennis nodded his head.

“Nothing good has ever came from loving anybody!” Patricia barked at him, upset that he could be such a fool. “Everyone we’ve ever loved has only let us down!”

This much was true. They have only ever loved a handful of people collectively. If time has shown them anything, it has shown them that love does not last. People die. People leave. People maim. And people deceive.

“Abby was right,” Patricia stated in an even tone.

“About what?” Dennis was curious.

Patricia shook her head and sneered. “She has you eating out of the palm of her hand.”

Dennis pressed his lips together in a frown. He felt his heart stop.

“She said that?” he asked, the pain in his voice apparent.

“Oh, yes,” Patricia confirmed. “She said that you worship the ground that she walks on, and she could have you eating out of the palm of her hand. And, she was right.”

Dennis didn’t want to believe it. He didn’t want to believe that last night was just a trick, just a way to get him to soften his defenses. He considered what Patricia said for a moment. No, it couldn’t be true. What he and Abby felt last night, that was real.

“You’re lying,” Dennis accused her.

“No, sweetheart,” Patricia soothed. “I wish I were.”

Dennis didn’t want to believe her. However, he couldn’t think of one situation in which Patricia had lied to him before. Why would she start now? His shoulders tensed up, causing a throbbing pain to slowly build within his neck and upper back. He leaned his hands against the sink again and hung his head.

“I’m so sorry,” Patricia genuinely felt apologetic for the hurt she could see within him.

As much as she knew it hurt him, though, he deserved to know the truth. Patricia had doubts about Abby’s intentions with Dennis. In Patricia’s eyes, there was no way that someone in Abby’s position could possibly develop true feelings towards someone like Dennis. Even under normal circumstances, Dennis and the others were complicated and misunderstood by society.

“Take back control, Dennis,” Patricia whispered in his ear. “You need to show her that _you_ are the one who is in control.”

Dennis looked up at himself in the mirror. The more he thought about it, the angrier he felt. He would have to show her that he was not a fool. He grunted and pushed himself away from the sink, stomping towards Abby’s bedroom.


	20. Losing Control

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> *warning* Sexual Content... it gets a bit rough. Borderline rape. Don't hate me :)

 

Dennis changed into his own clothes, stewing over Patricia’s words the whole time. He wasn’t sure who he was angrier with: Abby, for saying what she did; Patricia, for telling him; or, himself, for letting it happen. He placed his glasses on his face and pushed them all the way up on his nose. He thought for a minute about what he would say once he was in the room, but no matter how much time he spent thinking about it, he couldn’t come up with the words.

He swung the door open, startling Abby who had been sitting quietly on her bed. She jumped at his forceful entry, but her face seemed to soften a bit when she recognized it was him. His face softened a bit, too. He couldn’t help but hold a soft spot for her in his heart. Patricia’s words replayed in his head, and his mouth turned downwards into a frown. His brow furrowed as he looked at Abby from top to bottom. His eyes stopped when he saw her exposed hip and thigh where she sat. He kicked the door shut behind him.

It was happening again. His chest felt tighter as his breaths came in short, quick spurts. His heart beat ferociously against his chest, and his penis strained against the zipper of his pants. Blood coursed through his veins at an alarming speed, causing him to feel somewhat lightheaded. He closed his eyes for a brief reprieve.

Abby remained silent, understanding what he was feeling. Her heart began to race, too, being in his presence. But, she heeded Patricia’s words and knew that they weren’t supposed to touch. When he opened his eyes again and looked at her, she averted her gaze and looked at the floor, hopeful that looking away from him would make it easier.

He wanted to see if she really felt like she had the upper hand on him. He glanced back down at her exposed thigh, that porcelain skin. He remembered how it felt last night, wrapped around his waist as he held it in place and pumped in and out of her.

“Take off your dress,” he commanded with as much force as he did the first time he had told her to undress.

Abby quickly looked up at him, wanting to obey, wanting it as much as he did, but knowing that Patricia would find out. She had underestimated Patricia and would not make the same mistake twice. Dennis had to understand that.

“I can’t,” Abby croaked.

Dennis’s bottom lip began to quiver and his eyes started to burn. His breathing became shaky. He pressed his lips together in a firm line to stop the trembling. He was thinking that Patricia’s story had some truth to it. Abby was trying to make him work for what he wanted… to keep control of the situation.

“Take, that _fucking_ dress off… _now,”_ he repeated in a low and menacing tone that sent shivers down Abby’s spine. It even surprised himself.

Abby looked away from him and shook her head silently. She hung her head again and closed her eyes tightly to hold back her tears.

Becoming increasingly frustrated with her refusal, Dennis roughly rubbed the back of his head and dug his fingernails into his own skin at the base of his skull. He considered what he should do, how he should respond.

 _Just walk away,_ he told himself. _Just walk away, come back later once you’ve calmed down._

 _“Are you going to let her make you look stupid, Dennis?”_ he heard Patricia’s voice chime in.

He pushed it away. He dropped his hands with a slap to his thighs and marched over to her. Abby didn’t even flinch as he approached. She sat in the same position, head down, hands resting against the edge of the bed as her back lightly arched forward.

He decided to take matters into his own hands. Dennis roughly sat beside her and both of his hands quickly grasped for the zipper at the back of her dress. At this, Abby quickly twisted away from him and pushed his hands back. She looked at him in surprise.

Dennis returned her shocked expression. She was denying him. Angry, he placed his hand on her shoulder and roughly pulled her towards him to gain access to her back again, reaching for the zipper. Once more, Abby twisted from his grip. They struggled with each other for a few seconds. This time, Abby struck him hard across the cheek.

Dennis turned his head at the force of her slap. His skin stung from the contact and immediately turned red. Abby raised her hand up to her mouth and covered it, surprised at her own reflexive actions. He slowly turned to face her again.

“Dennis,” Abby breathed as she lowered her hand, “I am so sorry. I’m so sorry, Dennis.”

His brow wrinkled even more and his mouth tightened into a pucker. He sucked in his cheeks and bit down on them, trying to hold himself back. Abby could see flames in his eyes.

Immediately, Dennis stood up and roughly pulled her up along with him, wrapping his fingers around her upper arm and digging into it like barbed wire. Abby winced and cried out in pain. He spun her around and pushed her up against the wall. She gasped at the force in which her chest slammed against the wall. She tried to catch herself with her hands and push herself back, but she wasn’t sturdy enough to match Dennis’s Herculean type strength.

Dennis was hasty with his movements. He pushed his pelvis up against her backside and fumbled with the hook and eye at the top of her dress. He was so hurt and angry and horny that he could hardly see straight to grasp the tiny clasp in his large fingers. Not wanting to waste any more time with it, he grabbed the fabric at either side of the zipper and pulled it forcefully apart. The stitches crunched as they were ripped from the delicate fabric. He worked to tug the material down from her arms. She fought against him to hold the dress in place.

Abby pleaded with him to stop. He had ripped her dress about halfway down her back when she threw her elbow backward and caught him in the ribs. He sputtered and stepped back to catch his footing. Abby quickly took this opportunity to turn herself around. She crossed her arms in front of her chest, desperately holding up the dress that now threatened to fall from her upper body.

“Dennis, please,” her voice was shaky.

Abby hated telling him to stop. She wanted him as badly as he wanted her. His forcefulness was terrifying but erotic at the same time. But she feared what Patricia would do if she found out. It was a lose-lose situation. Either she tells him no and he becomes angry with her, or she tells him yes and Patricia punishes her. She felt torn between wanting to wrap her legs around his waist and punching him in the face to make him stop.

Dennis growled deep within his throat as he heaved himself at her, pushing her against the wall and blocking her hands between their bodies. The cold wall felt scratchy against her bare back. She turned her hands to push against his chest, but it was no use. Dennis grabbed a fistful of her hair and tugged her head brutally to the side. She slammed her eyes shut and wailed at the discomfort. He held her waist with his other hand, keeping their bodies as close together as possible.

His teeth grazed against the delicate skin on her neck, leaving reddened and raised scrapes where he nipped and dragged his teeth. He left a sheer path of saliva as he licked the surface of his tongue crudely over the scratches he had just left before enveloping her mouth with his. Abby tightly closed her eyes and tried to keep his tongue from entering her mouth to no avail.

Dennis slid his hand down from her waist to her hip, her outer thigh, and then began to trace his fingers up her inner thigh. Abby managed to work a hand lose between them and pushed his hand away from her, knowing where he was trying to go. Dennis pulled her hand back and grabbed her wrist, throwing it off to the side before returning his hand to her inner thigh.

Abby squeezed her upper thighs together tightly as Dennis worked to pry them apart. Again, her fingers gripped his wrist. She dug her nails into his flesh, drawing blood in thin, crescent moon shapes on the back of his hand. He grunted against her jaw as his hand once again left her thigh, this time wrapping his fingers around her wrist and slamming it against the wall beside her head where he held it in place, never missing a beat with lapping at her neck, jaw, and lips.

He released her hair and attempted to use his other hand this time to roam up her legs. She continued to squeeze her upper legs tightly together and released her other hand from between their chests and pushed his hand down, trying to avoid him touching her down there. She knew that once he crossed the finish line she would be unable to stop him, driven by her own desires. He knew his strength was greater than hers and that he could plow through her attempts to stop him. He continued to force his way up her legs, moving his knee forcefully between her legs to make her release her vice grip.

Abby knew that she would have to return his forcefulness by any means necessary in order to keep this from getting any further.

“Stop it,” Abby screamed, balling up her free hand into a fist and blindly swinging at him, hitting him in the shoulder and twice in the side of the head before his hand caught hers and slammed it roughly against the wall to the other side of her head. Abby felt completely helpless. She was trapped, just like that first night. His fingers dug into her wrists hard, surely leaving bruises beneath them.

Dennis pressed his forehead forcefully against hers and grunted. He panted against her face. She stood, defeated, shaking, and tears starting to form along the inner corners of her eyes. He breathed fast, still angry, still wanton. Veins were popping up in his forehead and neck, causing him to look extremely vicious.

Dennis raised her hands above her head and crossed her wrists, shifting his grasp so that he could effectively hold onto both of her wrists with one hand. She tried to fight against it but was too weak to elude his hold. He slightly pulled his hips away from hers and began to work at his belt with his now free hand.

He arched his neck forward and kissed her hard on the lips, his tongue forcing its way into her mouth. She tried to turn her head away, fearful that she would soon give in, which angered him further.

When Dennis pulled away, he moved his hand to the back of her neck and released her wrists as he simultaneously pushed her roughly towards the bed. Abby fell on the cot face first towards the foot of the bed. She scrambled to crawl away from him, off the bed, but he grabbed her ankles and briskly twisted her legs, flipping her over onto her back and dragging her further up the bed so he could get on top of her.

Abby screamed at him and tried to kick him, but the grip he had on her ankles was far too powerful for her to escape. Dennis held her legs apart as he pushed himself between them, his pelvis lined up perfectly with hers. He started to grind against her, eager to relieve the pressure that he felt building inside him. Her body deceived her as she felt her slickness spreading between her legs. His hands found her wrists again and slammed them down beside either side of her head.

They stared at each other, breathing heavily. She didn’t understand what he had been so angry about, why he had come into the room and immediately demanded this of her. But, she couldn’t fight it anymore. She didn’t want to fight it anymore.

Abby threw her head forward and locked lips with him. He kissed her passionately, relentless in his motions, as he felt himself grow harder.

He released one of her hands and freed himself from his zipper, pulling her dress up over her legs as she now bowed them outward to allow him full access to her. He moaned against her mouth as he dragged the tip of his penis against her slippery folds. He thrusted into her immediately and roughly. He slammed his forearm down beside her head and stilled momentarily as he adjusted to her tightness. Their lips finally separated, both swollen and numb from the constant friction. He dipped his head and rested it on her shoulder as he rolled his hips hard and wide.

Abby threw her head back, suddenly thrown into dream-like euphoria. Dennis turned his head and kissed her neck. He sucked on her earlobe, eliciting a pleasurable moan from Abby’s throat. He pushed himself up onto his forearm and watched her eyes roll into the back of her head as she bit her bottom lip and her face contorted at the sensation of fully accommodating him.

Seeing the pleasure building in her face made him more excited. He slammed into her quickly and then slowly drew back, the head of his penis nearly slipping out of her before slamming back in as far as he could go. He sped up his pace as sweat formed all over his body. He wished he had had time to remove his clothes, but he didn’t dare stop now to do that.

Abby suddenly tightened her thighs around his hips and turned her body, forcing him to fall over as she helped him complete his roll by getting on top of him. Dennis’s eyes widened at this maneuver but soon found himself unable to think about it as he focused on the tingling feeling at the base of his groin. Abby moved her hips back and forth at a decently fast pace as she held herself up by pushing her hands against his rock-hard chest.

Dennis held onto her hips, afraid that if he let her go he would find that it was only just a dream. He bucked lightly beneath her, loving the sensation of hitting every possible wet inch inside of her.

The fabric of the dress was starting to feel like it was getting in the way. Without missing any thrusts, Abby straightened her torso and continued to ride Dennis as she pulled her hands away from him to free her arms from the sleeves of her dress and pull it down over her torso to her belly button.

Dennis’s eyes widened as he saw her breasts for the first time. They bounced gloriously with every thrust she made. His eyes darted back up to her face for a second before finding their way back down to her breasts. They were supple and perky. Her nipples were hard in the cool air despite their bodies feeling overheated.

Abby grabbed Dennis’s hands from her hips and intertwined her fingers over his, dragging his hands up her torso and placing them on her breasts. She squeezed his hands gently, making him knead her breasts like soft mounds of dough. She closed her eyes as another moan escaped her lips.

Dennis sat up, pulling his hands free from hers and wrapping them around her lower back. She continued to roll her hips and ride his cock as his tongue flicked her nipple and then sucked on her breast, first one and then the other. No woman had ever let him do that before. Abby’s moans grew louder as the friction she felt rubbing against her made her orgasm. Dennis smiled and opened his mouth in pleasant amazement as he felt her constrict around him rapidly and repeatedly.

Their breathing and the tingling they felt in their groins intensified. Abby’s movements slowed, the sensation more than she could endure. Taking a note out of Abby’s playbook, Dennis wrapped his arm around her torso and rolled her onto her back to reposition himself on top of her once again. He felt his own orgasm approaching and sped up his thrusts to increase the friction. He moaned loudly as he spilled his seed into her. They both felt his penis twitch as his hips jolted and then suddenly stilled.

Dennis collapsed on top of Abby. They were both out of breath and exhausted. As his breathing started to return to normal, he propped himself up on his forearms and removed himself from her. He looked down into her bright eyes and she smiled at him as she continued to try to steady her own breathing.

Dennis heard a voice in his head that prevented him from smiling back at her.

“We’re going to be in trouble,” he warned her.


	21. The Test

 

Abby had just finished getting dressed from her shower when she heard a knock come from the front of the bedroom. Hedwig poked his head inside as he opened the door.

“Hi,” he said quietly and smiled widely as he walked in and closed the door behind him.

Abby sat cross-legged on the bed and smiled back. “Hey.”

“What are you doing?” he asked.

Abby shrugged and smiled. “Nothing. What are you doing?”

“Nothing.”

Hedwig giggled and hopped onto the bed, bouncing on his knees in front of her. Abby couldn’t help but chuckle at his innocence and playfulness. He was so different from Dennis. She could hardly believe that this was the same man she had just been intimate with not even an hour ago. This was the same man that had manhandled her, that covered her in kisses, and that touched her lustfully all over her body. He continued to bounce and giggle.

“What are you so happy about?” she asked with a questioning smile.

“I don’t know. I jutht feel really _really_ good for thome reathon,” he beamed.

Abby’s eyes widened a bit at the realization of why he probably felt so good. She wondered just how much of each other they could feel… how one personality’s actions would impact the rest. She pressed her lips together to keep from laughing and looked down to hide her face. She felt guilty to associate Hedwig with such lascivious acts. Hedwig smiled and giggled at her, not knowing why she was trying to hold back a laugh.

“What?” he laughed, cocking his head to the side with curiosity.

Abby shook her head and took in a breath, releasing it slowly to calm herself. “Nothing,” she smiled and looked back up at him. She giggled again lightly.

“I’m glad to thee you’re not _too_ upthet,” he acknowledged her jovial mood.

“Upset?” Abby smiled. “You’re here. Why would I be upset?” she playfully pushed his knee.

“Becauthe you didn’t path your tetht. That’th a bummer,” he continued to bounce on his knees, starting to speak with shortness of breath. “But that’th okay. Maybe you’ll do better nektht time.”

Abby’s eyebrows wrinkled and she looked at him with a confused smile. “Test?” she chuckled. “What test?”

“I don’t know, thilly. You’re the one that took it,” he said as he held out his hands in an _I-don’t-know_ gesture and shrugged his shoulders.

“Who told you I had a test?” Abby questioned him, a look of concern starting to emerge. Wrinkles formed over her forehead, seemingly aging her a number of years.

“I overheard Mith Patricia thay tho,” Hedwig responded innocently.

Abby’s smile faded. What was he talking about? A test? The only thing she did between seeing Patricia and seeing Hedwig was have sex with Dennis. Of course, she was told not to. Well, she wasn’t exactly told not to, but she was warned to mind herself. Whatever that meant.

“What did she say?” Abby lowered her chin and looked up at Hedwig.

He continued to bounce. He smiled and giggled, ignoring her question. Abby was beginning to wonder if all of them were in on something that she wasn’t. Was Dennis the test? Was _he_ testing her? Like a bet? Her chest and throat tightened. She suddenly started to feel annoyed at Hedwig’s behaviors. He just bounced and bounced and bounced, shaking the cot. The springs squeaked in a low then high pitched squeal as it shifted repeatedly beneath his weight…. over and over and over and over again.

“Hedwig.” He didn’t respond. “Hedwig!” she said a bit louder, leaning forward and grabbing his upper arms to make him stop.

“Ooowww,” he whined and twisted, looking at her with a saddened expression.

She loosened her grip slightly, not wanting to hurt him. “What did Miss Patricia say?”

His mouth puckered into a tight smile and he lowered his head between his shoulders as if he was trying his hardest to keep a secret. He liked Abby and wanted to tell her. He looked around the room to make sure no one else was listening.

“He’th on the move,” he whispered.

That wasn’t a response she was expecting to hear. It made no sense in regards to her question. Her mouth turned downward into a frown and she narrowed her eyes in confusion. She released his arms and sat back.

“Who is?”

He leaned closer to her and whispered, “The Beatht.”

“Hedwig, stop it,” Abby tried to redirect him, tired of the relentless Beast talk. “What did Miss Patricia say? About the test.”

“I don’t know. I didn’t hear much,” Hedwig shrugged his shoulders. “All I heard wath that you and Mithter Dennith took a tetht, and he pathed and you didn’t. Et-thet-era.”

“He passed the test?” Abby asked.

“Mm-hmm,” Hedwig nodded and then scrunched his face as he contemplated about why Dennis would be taking a test. “I didn’t even know Mithter Dennith went to thcool. He’th kinda old, don’t you think?”

Abby’s mind was swimming in a sea of perplexity. She felt betrayed, not even fully understanding why. Did Dennis know about this test? Perhaps that was why he came into the room as angry as he did. Abby had found it strange how he had been so forceful with her when just the night prior he was so affectionate. Was it to teach her a lesson? And for what? Abby wanted to know what it was that Patricia knew, and what it was that she was up to.

“What else?” Abby questioned calmly, hoping that he would provide her with more information willingly.

“I don’t know,” he again shrugged, appearing bored.

“Think, Hedwig,” she immediately shot back. “Think.”

Hedwig hummed and contorted his face as he tried to think of anything else that he might tell Abby. He hadn’t heard much, but he wanted to be able to tell her _something._ He liked Abby. He liked when she talked with him. It made him feel important and smart when he explained things to her.

“She wath humming a thong,” Hedwig pouted out his bottom lip and raised his eyebrows, trying to read Abby’s face to see if she would be satisfied with what he revealed.

“A song?” Abby said with a hint doubt.

Hedwig nodded his head.

That didn’t sound like Patricia. She remembered Hedwig saying that Patricia had started singing to him, but this didn’t sound like that. This didn’t sound like she was humming a song to Hedwig... He would have said so.

“Was she mad?”

“Uh-uh,” Hedwig shook his head. “No, she theemed kinda happy.”

Abby was puzzled. It was almost like she had to solve a riddle of sorts. What test would she have failed, that Dennis passed, that left Patricia happy and humming a tune…

“What song was she humming?” Abby asked.

Hedwig thought for a second and shrugged his shoulders, disappointed that he couldn’t answer her question.

“I don’t know what it’th called. But, Mith Patricia thometimeth thingth it when I’m in my room.”

“Well,” Abby thought for a second. “What does it sound like? How does it go?” Her hand rushed forward and encouragingly patted his hand. “Sing it for me.”

“Heh,” Hedwig sighed an embarrassed little laugh. “Okaaaay,” he raised his eyebrows and dragged out his voice a bit. “Ummm…” he thought for a second about how to start it. “Hm hm hmmmm… Hm hm hmmm… Hm hm HMMMM hm hm hmmhmm….” he started to hum the tune.

Abby leaned back and removed her hand from his. Hedwig continued to smile as he hummed the tune for her, remembering the inflection and length of every note. Abby’s mind raced as her memory came back to her. The entire purpose that she was told she was here to begin with.

“Brahms’ Lullaby?”


	22. The Test Revealed

 

 

Patricia stood at the kitchen counter, smiling and humming to herself as she made a sandwich.

“Are you hungry?” she sensed Dennis. “I’ll make you a sandwich.”

“No,” Dennis said, looking down at the unappetizing mayonnaise and cheese sandwich she was putting together.

“Did you, uh,” Dennis rubbed the back of his head, wondering if he should finish his sentence. “Did you hear that… earlier?”

Patricia grinned but pretended as if she did not know what he was talking about. “Hear what?”

Dennis paused and thought for a moment. Perhaps it was just in his head… that roar that he had heard. It had been so loud when he was with Abby that he thought even she would have heard it. It had been weeks since he had heard anything from the Beast. This time, it was so loud that it left him shaken. Surely, the rest of them had to have at least heard it. It frightened him a bit, and not much ever frightened Dennis. He was the biggest and the toughest out of all of them.

“Nothing,” Dennis lied.

Patricia turned around with a plate and two sandwiches.

“I told you I didn’t want anything to eat,” Dennis reminded her.

She smiled. “It’s not for you. Abby is going to need her strength.”

“Strength for what?”

Patricia chuckled deep within her throat and just looked at Dennis. She set the plate down on the table and clasped her hands together. It was all she could do to keep from grabbing Dennis’s face and kissing him right there for helping to fulfill one of her greatest desires.

“He’s growing stronger,” Patricia said.

Dennis’s jaw tensed as he considered the possibility that it wasn’t just in his mind, that he really had heard the Beast.

“What? How do you know?” Dennis asked. The only thing he had heard from the Beast was a growling roar. That wasn’t enough information to tell him that the Beast was coming or growing stronger.

“He has been speaking to me,” Patricia lowered her shoulders and stood up straight, elongating her neck as she held her nose slightly in the air at her own perceived importance. “For weeks, actually.”

“Why haven’t I heard anything about it?” Dennis asked, confused as to why now only one of them was hearing from the Beast instead of both.

Patricia scoffed and placed her hands on her narrow hips. “Because you have been too preoccupied with satisfying your _own_ needs, silly boy. Abby has distracted you.”

Dennis’s jaw tensed and released again. He couldn’t argue that point. His mind has constantly been on Abby. When he wasn’t with her, he wanted to be. When he wasn’t in the light, he wanted to be. When she was right in front of him, he wanted to touch her, to kiss her, to hold her, to smell her, to taste her. She had consumed his entire being. Dennis had even blocked Patricia’s voice out when he was with Abby, not wanting anything to distract him from being in that moment with her.

“But, no matter,” Patricia smiled, interrupting him from his thoughts. “Oh, Dennis,” she rubbed her palms together and looked up at the ceiling, “we were wrong this entire time about His plans.”

Dennis had known that there were no real plans that had been clearly laid out by the Beast. Patricia was the one that had been so convinced that He wanted a child. That was more her own desires coming to the forefront.

“Did He tell you His plans?” Dennis asked cautiously. He was curious.

“Oh, yes,” Patricia said calmly with an eerie smile plastered across her face.

Patricia was enjoying knowing something that Dennis didn’t. He had been trying to keep his affairs with Abby a secret from her, and now she had information that was a secret from Dennis. She, once again, felt like she was in control.

“Well?” he held out his hands and encouraged her to share what she knew.

Patricia pulled a wooden chair across the floor. The legs squeaked as they dragged across the clean surface. Patricia sat and folded her hands neatly in her lap. She had to do something to contain her excitement.

“Well,” Patricia began, “His plan involves the young, but not in the sense that we first thought.”

Dennis listened intently as he sat. He could hear his own blood rushing through his ears as if he had been listening to a conch shell. His body felt rigid as he waited for a further explanation.

“The Beast will need His strength, and so,” Patricia paused and smiled, “He is going to accomplish this by devouring the impure young. Oh, Dennis, it is a perfect plan, indeed!” she proclaimed. “He will get the strength and the nourishment He needs to finally be able to take the light completely, and the world will become a better place as one by one He cleanses it of the impure. The world will finally be able to see just how powerful we are.”

Dennis swallowed hard. _He is going to eat people?_ He looked down at his own hands, mindlessly twiddling his thumbs in an attempt to hide his anxiety. What did this mean for Abby?

“What about Abby?” Dennis inquired, not caring much about anyone or anything else.

Patricia again chucked, “Hmm. I thought you might ask that. Enthralled, as you are. So I talked with Him.”

Dennis felt like he was on the edge of his seat, terrified for Abby’s safety. He knew that Patricia didn’t care for her much. He could sense it. Patricia was jealous that Abby had taken all of Dennis’s attention. His heart wasn’t as into bringing the Beast’s philosophies to life as it had once been. His heart belonged to Abby.

“Even though we were wrong about what He initially wanted, I explained to him the situation. How much you enjoy Abby’s…company. He agrees that the world is in need of more pure inhabitants. And so,” Patricia smiled, “He has impregnated her.”

Dennis’s eyes narrowed and small lines formed over the bridge of his nose as he scrunched his face in confusion.

“You mean He _will_ impregnate her,” Dennis corrected her.

Patricia pressed her lips together in a tight smile and slowly shook her head. “I’ve been counting the days since Abby last menstruated.” She leaned forward and said just above a whisper, “Yesterday and today would be her most fertile days.”

Dennis immediately stood from his chair and began to pace back and forth. Patricia watched him, a small smirk creeping across the corners of her mouth.

“The Beast hasn’t even taken the light yet,” Dennis said. “What are you talking about? _I_ was with Abby yesterday and today.”

Patricia again smirked as she saw Dennis’s face go slack as he realized that he revealed he had been with her again.

“Earlier, when you were with her, did you feel different?” Patricia asked him, cocking an eyebrow and smiling from one corner of her mouth. “Did you feel like, you were acting in a way that wasn’t quite yourself?”

Dennis stopped and thought for a moment. He had been more aggressive with Abby, more forceful. Yes, he had had violent tendencies in the past. But, he was no rapist. Never. All he would ever do is watch. He lowered his eyes as he remembered the events prior. Abby appeared to have been scared at first when she was with him. He had ripped her clothing, ignored her pleas for him to stop… he bit her neck… he held her down… He remembered that even if she hadn’t arched her neck up to kiss him and voluntarily allow him to penetrate her, he had already made up his mind that he would have done so anyway. That wasn’t like him. He loved Abby. He would never want to hurt her, especially not in _that_ way. He had acted like an animal. He had acted like… a _beast._

“He may not be strong enough yet to take the light entirely, but in moments of passion where you seem to be your weakest, He was able to share that moment with you,” Patricia revealed. “He is quite fond of Abby, as well, it seems. He trusts your judgment, and, in fact, is quite impressed with her. He finds her attractive _and_ valuable.”

Dennis felt like crying and screaming but dared not show his emotions to Patricia. Instead, he grabbed his head with both hands and paced as he huffed and puffed. He was angry. He was scared for Abby. He was hurt. He had been tricked. Patricia had tricked him. And, Abby had been tricked, as well.

When he realized this, he stopped moving. He rubbed his hands over the top of his head and down the sides of his face, attempting to stretch out the tense, tight muscles in his cheeks and neck. His hands dropped down beside him as he turned to look at Patricia, who was calm and smiling a contemptuous grin.

“You tricked me,” Dennis accused her.

“Tested, is more like it,” Patricia corrected him. “I knew you wouldn’t be able to leave her be. Telling you to stay away from her is like telling you not to breathe air. We wanted to see if the Beast would be able to feel your passion and act on it.” Patricia raised her eyebrows. “And He did.”

Dennis recalled feeling out of control, not wanting to hurt or scare Abby but continuing his actions anyway. He had been like a puppet with someone else controlling the strings. His stomach churned as he recalled hearing the Beast’s roar at the exact moment that he came inside Abby. He closed his eyes. He felt violated. He felt Abby had been violated. Abby had consented to being with him, not the Beast.

“And, so,” Patricia continued. “Abby will stay here with _us,”_ she smiled and again hissed the ‘s’ as she held the word. “And, we will be one, big, happy family. Isn’t that lovely?”

“What if she’s not pregnant?” Dennis asked. Patricia’s smile disappeared. “I mean, it doesn’t always happen after the first time.”

Dennis was hopeful that she would not become pregnant. He feared what would happen to Abby if she were to bring a child into the world of someone who could be so deceitful and malicious. He worried about what the child would be like.

Patricia inhaled sharply and then sighed. “Then He will try again. And again. And again. Until she is.”

Dennis’s stomach rolled and churned at the thought of Abby being subjected to this again… of Him hurting her next time.

Patricia got up from the chair and pushed it back in. She picked up the plate and headed out of the swinging door, through the living room to get to the hallway that led to Abby’s room. Patricia felt pleased with herself. She was happy that the Beast finally revealed His plan and would allow her to fulfill her own dream of being a mother.


	23. A Change of Plans

 

Dennis entered Abby’s room shortly after Patricia had left. Upon walking inside the room, he saw a plate flying at his head. He ducked just in time for the ceramic plate to hit the wooden wall behind him and shatter into several pieces. His arms flung instinctively over his head. He quickly looked back at the wall where the plate hit, just to make sure his eyes didn’t deceive him.

He clenched his fists at the sight of such a mess. Broken pieces and ceramic dust laid about in front of the door. The deconstructed sandwich laid in pieces across the floor. His instincts told him that it must be cleaned at once. He turned and looked at Abby. She was angry; she was livid.

 _Those damn lips,_ he thought as he stared at her thick pucker, forgetting about the broken shards and food on the floor. She was the only person in the world who could do that to him.

Abby’s breathing was sharp, short, and rapid. Her chest rose and fell along with her shoulders as they locked eyes in a stare-down. Her cheeks were red and wet. She had been crying before he walked in.

Dennis started to approach her, wanting to comfort her in any way that he could. She quickly bent down to the floor and retrieved both of her tennis shoes in her hands. She hurled one at him. It would have hit him in the shoulder if he hadn’t deflected it with his hands. The shoe hit the floor with a hard _thud_ as he forcefully hit it away from him.

He continued towards her, this time speeding up his moves as he saw her draw her arm back again to throw her remaining shoe.

“Don’t,” Abby held her arm back, threatening to throw the other shoe at him. “Don’t you come near me, you goddamned bastard,” Abby snarled, seemingly on the verge of tears again.

Just as she was about to throw the shoe, Dennis wrapped his hands over her wrists and spun her around. Her back was held tightly against his solid chest. Her arms were crossed in front of her. Dennis readjusted his grip so that he held both of her wrists with one hand while he cradled her body with his other arm.

He closed his eyes as he inhaled her sweet scent. She didn’t even fight him. She dropped the shoe as her body went limp in his arms and she started to cry. Dennis held her securely to keep her from falling. He frowned as he listened to the sound of her sobs. He slowly lowered them to the floor, leaning his back against the jagged wall and sprawling his legs out so that she could sit between them.

Dennis removed his hand from around her waist and gently brushed her hair back from her face, tucking it behind her ear. She shivered and recoiled away from his touch. He frowned once more, respecting her wishes to not be touched. He pinched the bridge of his nose, trying to think of what he could do to make this situation better for her.

“You _tested_ me?” Abby asked in disbelief.

“What?” Dennis asked immediately. “No,” he vehemently denied. “Of course not,” he moved his hands to her arms and caringly rubbed them up and down. “Patricia…”

Dennis halted. The anger and the hurt in her voice was apparent. Patricia must have said something to her. He bit the inside of his lower lip and placed his hands on his legs. He desperately wanted to touch her and hold her, but he recognized that now was not the time. The tension between them was thick.

Dennis finally licked his lips. “I don’t know what Patricia told you,” he started, but was instantly interrupted.

“She told me enough,” Abby retorted, pushing herself away from him to stand up.

Dennis hung his head and swallowed his emotions. He looked up at her as she turned to face him again, crossing her arms and shifting her weight to one leg, popping her hip out to the side.

“Abby,” he sighed as he started to stand.

“Don’t,” she held out her finger and firmly reminded him to keep his distance.

“Abby,” he cooed lightly as he held his hands out for her. “Whatever she told you, it’s not true.”

“Don’t touch me,” Abby raised her voice as Dennis continued to approach her.

He wanted to obey her, but he also wanted to show her that he is not the monster that she thought he was. Just because Patricia and the Beast had tricked them didn’t mean that his own heart wasn’t pure and full of good intent.

Abby slapped his hands away, but he cautiously and gingerly stepped forward. Abby slapped him across the face with a resounding _crack!_ He twisted his head to the side at the force of her slap, not even angry that she had done it. He turned to face her again, pleading with his eyes for her to give him a chance to explain.

He saw the pain in her eyes. He saw the feelings of betrayal and hate and resentment in her face, and he couldn’t bear to think that it was towards him… that she felt these things because of him... because of something that he had done, or rather, that she thought he had done.

“Abby,” he repeated and took another step forward.

Without hesitation, she slapped him again. He stopped and turned his head again at the force of the blow. This time, he did feel angry. She wasn’t even giving him a chance to explain. He was more angry at Patricia for causing this, however, than he was at Abby’s reaction. Her reaction was normal; it was expected. His jaw tensed and he ground his teeth together. The vein in his neck pulsated and throbbed.

“Listen to me, please,” he said through clenched teeth, avoiding looking at her in anticipation of being slapped for a third time.

When she did not say or do anything in response, his eyes darted to the side to look at her. She stood with crossed arms in front of her chest, accentuating her cleavage and the size of her bust. Her breathing was still sharp and shallow. It sounded as if she was about to hyperventilate.

“Patricia tricked us,” Dennis said as he stood tall. “What we had last night,” Dennis nodded his head and licked his bottom lip, “that was _real_.”

“But not what we had this morning,” Abby stated rather than questioned.

“That was real, too,” Dennis acknowledged, his voice sounding calmer. “Abby, I didn’t know what she was planning.”

“Of course you knew!” Abby yelled. “You’ve always known! And, I was stupid to have let you do it! How could I have been so stupid to not know.”

“Abby, I,” Dennis contemplated whether he should finish saying what he wanted to tell her. “I love you.”

Abby paused and stared at him in shock. Dennis suddenly felt vulnerable. He had never said those three words to anyone.

She scoffed and took a step back. “Love?” she asked. “You love me?” she asked, rhetorically. “You don’t do this to the people you love. You don’t trick people you love so that you can trap them in a life that they didn’t ask for!”

Dennis’s heart sank. He _did_ have her trapped. In a perfect world, they would have begun their relationship under different circumstances. This was entirely his fault. Because he didn’t know how to talk to and approach women, because he didn’t know how to have a healthy relationship, he forced her into a life in which she had no options. In a perfect world, they could be together and be happy.

But, this wasn’t a perfect world. This was a world in which people get hurt. This was a world in which little boys were punished with unspeakable, violent acts because they made messes. This was a world that treated people who are different with contempt and animosity. This was a world in which the strong stepped on the weak, just because they could. This was a world in which he was one of 23 trapped in another man’s body. It would be impossible to be with her forever, because he couldn’t always be in the light… he couldn’t always be with her. That wasn’t fair to her.

“You’re right,” Dennis took a step back and rubbed the top of his head back and forth.

He watched her face soften. Those two little words held a lot of meaning to people.

“You’re right,” he said softly again as he brushed past her and exited the room.

Abby remained facing the wall. She wanted to believe him; she wanted to believe that he had nothing to do with the test that Patricia had told her about. It seemed like he was telling the truth. He was surprisingly gentle and soft-spoken.

The door opened again behind her and she turned to look at him. She looked down at what he held in his hand: a small aerosol bottle and a surgeon’s mask. She looked back up at him. He avoided eye contact with her, choosing to look at the items in his own hands.

“We need to get you out of here,” Dennis said with displeasure.

It wasn’t what he wanted to do, but he knew it was the right thing to do. He struggled all his life, fighting with himself over right and wrong. Now was the time that right was going to prevail.

“What are you doing?” Abby said, remembering those items from when she was first taken.

Dennis licked his lips and sighed. He finally looked at her eyes. Her beautiful blue eyes.

“I trust you,” Dennis said, “but I can’t risk the others going to jail for what I’ve done. The others… they wouldn’t make it.” He saw the fear in her eyes as she misconstrued what he was saying. “Once you’re unconscious,” he further explained, “I’ll take you out of here… someplace safe… where you can live your life again.”

“You will?” Abby asked, her voice cracking at the thought of being back home, of having the sun shine on her face again… of seeing her friends.

Dennis nodded his head and then motioned towards the cot. “Why don’t you, uh, lay on the bed… so you don’t fall and get hurt.”

Abby did as he suggested and laid down, placing her hands over her stomach. Dennis walked over to her and admired her one last time. Her hair cascaded over the pillow like silk. Her breathing had finally slowed to a relaxed, soothing pace. It was amazing how something so mundane could make his knees weak and his heart flutter.

He sat next to her at the edge of the bed. The cot squeaked and groaned beneath the additional weight. He went to put the mask on his face, but stopped. He glanced at her face again, at her pink, rosy lips and the soft waves of hair that he would likely never touch again.

“May I kiss you?” he asked, hopeful for this goodbye gift.

Abby cocked her head and studied his face. She saw no malicious intent. She nodded her head _yes_.

Dennis felt tears beginning to form in his eyes and fought to hold them back. This didn’t go unnoticed by Abby. She felt for him. She _did_ care for him.

He turned his upper body and placed his hand on the other side of her torso to support his weight as he thoughtfully lowered himself closer to her face. She closed her eyes as she awaited his lips to touch hers. He couldn’t help but smile a sad, but loving smile as he saw her look so peaceful. He closed his eyes and parted his lips slightly as he met hers.

This kiss was different. He didn’t try to make it more than it was. He didn’t try to make her open her mouth or slip his tongue between her lips. He just wanted to feel her soft, plump lips against his one last time. This was how he wanted to remember her. He squeezed his eyes tightly and his smile turned into a frown as he separated himself from the kiss. A single, solitary tear dropped from his eye to her cheek.

Abby opened her eyes, which were also wet and blurry because she was fighting back tears of her own. They gazed into each other’s eyes for a minute, neither of them knowing what to say.

Dennis sniffled as he pushed himself back up away from her into an upright, sitting position. He put the mask over his face and adjusted it to ensure that none of the chemical would make it through the spaces of his mask. He licked his lips as he adjusted the can in his hands.

“Dennis,” Abby delicately spoke to get his attention.

He looked at her, hopeful that she would tell him she wanted to stay.

“Thank you,” she finished.

Dennis sighed and pressed his lips together to choke back a sob. She was genuinely thankful. Her face seemed so serene… an expression that he couldn’t recall ever seeing in her before. This told him it was the right thing to do… she would be happier.

Dennis nodded his head in response, knowing that opening his mouth would result in crying or delaying… and if he delayed himself, he worried that he would change his mind. He raised the can to her face and watched her close her eyes, ready for him to spray it to make her go to sleep. His finger twitched on the nozzle. He closed his eyes and told himself to just do it. He finally opened his eyes and sprayed the bottle in Abby’s face.


	24. Ain't No Sunshine When She's Gone

 

 

“Abby,” Hedwig laughed as he came barging into the bedroom.

He stood at the open door, his hand still on the doorknob. He was motionless as he saw that she was not in the bedroom. He looked from corner to corner and under the cot, but she was not there. He looked at the bathroom; the door was open and the light was off. He smiled, giddy with delight that she was playing hide-and-seek with him.

He bit his bottom lip to stifle his laughter as he crept over to the bathroom. He snorted and covered his mouth as he could hardly contain his excitement. He loved playing with Abby. He loved being around her. She was so much fun, and she was so pretty, too. He loved her.

He flicked the switch on and jumped inside the bathroom. “Gotcha!”

No one was there. His smile dissipated. He looked all around the bathroom and even moved the door to check behind it. Nothing. No one.

“Abby?” he called out, confused.

He saw her purple flower barrette sitting on the back of the sink. He picked it up and brushed it between his fingers. The stiff petals fell back into place as he played with the material.

He walked out of the bedroom and into the office area, looking under the desk and then over at the rack of clothes. He moved the hangers from side to side, checking to see if she was hiding within the clothing, like so many children do at department stores.

“Heh heh,” he chuckled nervously. “Okay, quit it. Come out.”

He twisted his torso to check behind him, thinking that maybe Abby would try to sneak up from behind to scare him. He scratched his head when he couldn’t find her.

“Mith Patricia!” Hedwig shouted as he ran down the hallway.

\------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------

 

“What have you done!?” Patricia yelled at Dennis. “Where is she?” her voice was the angriest Dennis had ever heard it.

“She’s safe,” Dennis assured her. “I let her go.”

“You let her _go?!”_ Hedwig yelled. “Nooooooo!!!” he cried and grabbed his head, pacing back and forth erratically. “She wath my _friend!_ I _need_ her here!”

“How dare you make that decision for all of us,” Patricia scolded Dennis.

“How dare I make the decision to bring her here in the first place,” Dennis corrected her, keeping his head down. “She wasn’t happy. Not really.”

“Yeth she _wath!”_ Hedwig cried. “She played with me. We had fun together! Et-thet-era!”

“She wasn’t having fun, Hedwig,” Dennis informed him. “She did what she felt she had to do.”

Hedwig whimpered and cried at this statement. He didn’t want to believe that Abby was only pretending to like him. That she only played with him because she felt obligated.

“You’re lying!” Hedwig yelled at him.

“Look, she’s not coming back,” Dennis firmly announced. “You might as well accept that now, because it’s not changing. No matter how much you cry or say you miss her, she’s not coming back.”

Dennis’s speech was becoming more and more stern. He was quite upset about the whole ordeal himself. He was uncertain if he really did make the right decision. He felt positive that she would be better off without them, but he had doubts that they would be better off without her.

“You’re going to bring her back here,” Patricia demanded of him coldly.

“No,” Dennis defied her. “I’m not.”

“What is this sudden defiance, Dennis?” Patricia questioned him angrily. “Is this about the baby?”

“Baby?” Hedwig squinted his eyes and his face wrinkled in confusion. “What baby?”

“Didn’t he tell you?” Patricia asked. “Abby is going to have the Beast’s baby.”

Hedwig looked between Dennis and Patricia, becoming more and more confused. He didn’t understand. “How?”

Dennis sighed and didn’t feel like explaining everything to Hedwig. “They kissed.”

“Oooooh,” Hedwig raised his eyebrows and scratched his head, pretending to understand but not comprehending fully.

“That’s it, isn’t it?” Patricia ignored Hedwig and continued to question Dennis. “You’re angry with me, and you did this to get even.”

“Not everything is about you, Patricia,” Dennis sneered.

“How could it be? For the past month you’ve had your head in the clouds and have been completely distracted from the Beast’s plans,” Patricia snapped back.

“Thtop it!” Hedwig yelled. “Both of you! You guyth are being jerkth!”

Dennis ignored him. “I don’t agree with His plans,” Dennis said. “Not when it comes to Abby.”

“I would have helped her,” Patricia said, referring once again to motherhood. “She wouldn’t have been in this alone. She would have had us.”

“Do you really think she would want _anything_ from you? After what you’ve done?” Dennis angrily asked. “ _I’m_ having a hard enough time being near you right now.”

“Thtop it!” Hedwig yelled again, covering his ears, becoming annoyed with the bickering. “Or I’m giving the light back to Barry!”

Neither Patricia nor Dennis had been paying attention to Hedwig or his threats. They were too angry at each other to notice or care about anything else.

“The Beast,” Patricia scowled, “is highly dissatisfied.”

“I don’t care,” Dennis admitted. “I was highly dissatisfied when He and you used me and Abby for your own personal gain.”

“Dennis, let it go,” Patricia groaned. “You got what you wanted, He got what he wanted. The only one who didn’t get what they wanted out of this whole thing was _me_ , because you took away the only chance I had at any happiness!”

“THTOP IT!” Hedwig screamed.

Suddenly Dennis and Patricia found themselves sitting in chairs in a dark room. They looked around and saw that the others were sleeping. Hedwig and Barry were nowhere in sight.

“I hope you’re happy,” Patricia snarled.

Dennis didn’t care to be in the light anymore. If he couldn’t be with Abby, he didn’t even want to exist. She was the only thing that mattered to him anymore.

“We were banned for so long, we finally get the light, and now you’ve blown it,” Patricia blamed him for being placed back in their chairs.

In the distance, Dennis heard a muffled roar. Patricia’s ears perked up and she smiled.

“Perhaps this will do us some good,” Patricia suggested. “This will give you time to reconsider your loyalties.”

She was frustrated that they no longer had the light and that she would have to work twice as hard to regain Hedwig’s trust and allegiance. However, this would allow her an opportunity to keep her eyes on Dennis. He had nowhere to go, nowhere to escape. Not without Hedwig to steal the light for him. Patricia reveled in the thought that he would have to listen to her talk about the Beast… She could fill his days with talk of the Beast, His plans… talk of a new world and cleansing it of the impure so that they could once again regain total control and power.

Patricia stood from her chair and slowly walked over to Dennis. Their eyes locked as she closed the distance between them. She leaned down and whispered in his ear as he lowered his head, her breath creating goosebumps on his neck.

“I think it’s time for you to meet Him.”


	25. A Day at the Zoo

 

 

631 Days Later. Saturday, September 17, 2016.

 

 

“Mum mum mum mum,” Adam squealed as he pointed down at the large, pretty bird that was walking across the pavement.

“What is that?” Abby cooed as she held him close, wiping the dribble from his chin with a bib. She crouched down lower to allow Adam to have a better view of the colorful plumes as the bird walked slowly away from them. “Is that a peacock? Can you say peacock?”

“Pock! Aaahhh!” Adam shrieked. He flailed his arms in excitement.

Abby couldn’t help but laugh. Passersby giggled at his enthusiasm and inability to form his words. He was only one-year-old, after all. He had a lot of learning to do and an entire lifetime to do it. Today was his birthday, and Abby and Frank decided to have a little party for him at the Philadelphia Zoo.

“You’re a little wiggle-worm,” Abby adjusted him on her hip as she stood up. He continued to babble in his own language, a stage that Abby told herself she would miss once he started talking.

She walked over to the covered pavilion where the rest of their guests were seated, enjoying birthday cake. She smiled as she found Frank, who was staring at her lovingly. He sat at a picnic table with his parents. He rested his elbows on the table and clasped his hands together in front of his mouth, hiding his grin as he admired her. Although there were dozens of people around him, he only had eyes for Abby.

Frank was a good man. They had met that night she was dropped off in front of the police station. He was the first person she had seen when she regained consciousness. She felt bad for lying to him, for lying to all of them. She had reported that she didn’t know how many captors there were… that they wore masks… that they were never in the same room all together.

Dennis had been kind enough to release her, and she couldn’t stand the thought of Hedwig being placed in a jail cell with people three times the size of him. Dennis was right; the others likely wouldn’t be able to survive in prison. Despite the initial fear she had felt when she was first taken, she couldn’t help but want to protect them in the end (at least some of them). He wasn’t evil. He had his faults and he made his mistakes. He was a tortured soul as it was, even without the confines of a prison.

Abby had been lucky when she met Frank. He was hardworking, loving, and he absolutely adored Abby and Adam. She felt entirely safe with him. Not only did he make her feel secure, but he was also a city policeman. She didn’t think she could get much safer than that. When she was wrapped in his arms in bed at night, she had not a care in the world.

It took a special kind of man to step up to the plate and take care of another man’s child. He was patient with Adam, and he was patient with her. Frank had been with Abby officially since she was about six months pregnant. In a way, she was thankful that Adam would always know Frank as his father. He would at least have that kind of stability in his life, stability that his real father could never provide to him given his condition.

Frank smiled and stood from where he was seated as Abby came closer. He held his arms out to take Adam. Abby willingly handed him over, her arms starting to feel numb from supporting his weight. Frank lifted him with ease, his biceps bulging out from beneath his short sleeves.

“Hey, baby,” Frank leaned in to kiss Abby’s cheek.

Frank was a handsome, muscular man of thirty-two. He was eight years older than Abby and had a few more fine lines on his face than she…lines that more than likely had formed from the difficult things he had seen while on the force. His five o’clock shadow lightly scratched the side of her face as they pulled away.

“Are your parents coming?” Frank’s mother asked Abby, hopeful to finally meet them.

“Are you kidding?” Abby scoffed. “They’d rather contract dysentery than see me.”

“Their loss,” Frank gave a sympathetic smile as he adjusted Adam on his hip.

Frank’s parents knew that Abby and her parents had a turbulent relationship, but they didn’t know the full story as to why. Abby had told Frank about how her brother, Adam, had died that Christmas. How he had drowned beneath the icy water of the pond on their property after sledding late at night without supervision. How her parents blamed her and told her that the wrong child had died. How they sent her away from Connecticut to live with her grandparents in Phoenixville, Pennsylvania. How her parents never answered her phone calls or letters, how they never called her on birthdays and holidays. How they didn’t care to talk to her, even after she had been kidnapped and ended up pregnant.

Abby really had no one until Frank came into her life. She supposed that’s why she usually went out of her way to be nice to people. She treated people with kindness, even if she didn’t know them. In a way, that’s what got her in trouble in the first place. She had a few friends from work, even fewer from school. Frank and his family made her feel welcomed and loved. His parents were everything Abby had hoped her parents would be. And even though they knew that Frank wasn’t the biological father of Adam, they loved him with every ounce of their being, too.

“Come here, sweetheart, and see Grandma,” Frank’s mother held her arms out for Adam.

Frank smiled and walked over to his mother. Adam squealed and held his own arms out. He sure did love his grandma. Abby saw a wink between Frank and his mother and narrowed her eyes in confusion.

Frank turned around and placed one hand in his pocket and held the other out to hold Abby’s hand. She looked at him questioningly.

“Abby,” he smiled, “we’ve been together for almost a year and a half now.”

Muffled hushes traveled throughout the group as Abby looked around and saw that the partygoers were getting each other’s attention to look at Abby and Frank. She giggled nervously, hating when all attention was on her. She looked back at Frank again as he resumed speaking.

“I love you and Adam more than anything in the world, and I love the life we’ve made for ourselves. There’s only one thing that I would want to change. Abigail Altmire,” Frank kneeled down to the ground on one knee as he removed his hand from his pocket.

“Oh my God,” Abby giggled, covering her mouth with her free hand as happy tears involuntarily blurred her vision.

Frank’s lips spread across his teeth in a wide grin at Abby’s reaction.

“Will you make me the happiest man on earth,” he held up a beautiful, solitary, princess-cut diamond ring, “by becoming my wife?”

The crowd was filled with ooh’s and aww’s as partygoers and passersby stopped to relish the joyous moment between the two lovers.

“Yes,” she didn’t even have to think about it.

Abby held her fingers outright for Frank to slip the white gold band over her ring finger. He bit his thick lip as he did so, then stood up.

Surrounding people cheered and clapped as Abby threw her arms around Frank’s neck and he wrapped his arms around her waist. They embraced in a public-appropriate kiss on the lips. Frank smiled against her mouth, and she couldn’t help but feel like life was finally as it should be.

“Congratulations,” random strangers called out as they walked by.

Frank’s father stood from the table and shook Frank’s hand before pulling Abby into a strong hug.

“Three generations of policemen,” he said to Abby. He nodded at little Adam, “Is he going to be the fourth?”

Abby chuckled, “Let him get through preschool first, Frances.”

Frank’s father laughed a loud, hearty laugh as he officially welcomed her to the family.

“Mum mum mum mum,” Adam whined from Grandma’s lap.

Abby looked at him holding his hands out for her, a pained expression on his sweet, chubby face. He was about to cry. The noise from the crowd was too much for him to handle, and he wanted to be comforted.

Grandma smiled as she and Abby exchanged the boy. Abby heard obnoxious laughing and squealing behind her. She placed Adam on her hip and turned to see a group of teenagers all wearing the same lime-green shirt running past.

“Oh my God,” a dark haired girl laughed to another girl, “I can’t believe you did that.”

Abby turned her head in the direction in which they were running from. Her heart stopped when she saw a man in the distance, dressed in dark pants and a green jacket, rubbing the back of his head in that familiar, nervous manner. His short, buzzed hair was just as she had remembered. He seemed distraught as she saw his profile. He kept looking back towards the group of girls running away and rubbed his head and face.

Frank noticed that she had stopped breathing. He placed his hand on her lower back, causing her to jump and snapping her back to reality.

“Honey,” he said. “Everything okay?”

Abby glanced at Frank and then back in the direction of the man she had just seen. He was starting to go about his business, doing something with one of the exhibit signs.

“Yeah,” she said, seemingly out of breath. “I think I know that man over there,” she explained.

Frank looked in the direction of the maintenance man.

“I want to go to talk to him,” Abby said softly, “I’ll be right back.”

“Okay,” Frank nodded. “I’ll come with you.”

“No,” Abby calmly declined. “I’ll be fine. I’ll be just a minute.”

Frank smiled and placed a kiss on her forehead. “Okay.”

Frank turned back to his family. Abby placed her arm under Adam’s backside and bounced him upward to readjust his position on her side. She heard her heart beat louder and louder, completely drowning out the surrounding sounds of the crowd and excited children running around, as she approached the man from behind.

The man was unaware that she was walking towards him. The corners of her mouth turned up into a small smile as she tried to think of what she would say. She drew a blank. She waited until the noise from the drill had ceased before speaking.

“Dennis?” Abby smiled.

The man stood tall and his ears perked up. She just knew it was him. It had to be.

He turned around with a cocked eyebrow. Her smile slowly vanished as he looked at her for a brief second without saying a word. His face seemed different. This was the same man, but it wasn’t Dennis. His face was softer, not nearly as stern as Dennis’s. His eyes were just as blue, though.

“No,” he smiled with puzzlement. “Barry,” he introduced himself. He looked at little Adam and then back at Abby’s face.

“Oh,” she smiled and exhaled. “ _You’re_ Barry,” she acknowledged him.

He maintained his smile and wrinkled his brow as he studied her face. “Do I know you?” he asked with a Bronx-like accent.

Abby wasn’t sure if she felt relief or disappointment. How would Dennis react to seeing her? How would he react to seeing Adam? It had been over a year and a half. Would he even recognize her? Was he still in there?

“No,” Abby admitted, “I suppose you don’t. I’m sorry, I thought you were someone else.”

Abby went to turn to walk away when Barry spoke to her again. “You know Dennis?” he asked, confused as to how someone so sweet and innocent looking could get mixed up with the likes of Dennis.

Abby stopped and smiled. “I did,” she said softly. “We were… friends.”

Barry shook his head as he set the drill down on top of his toolbox.

“Now I _know_ you must be mistaken,” Barry grinned a crooked smile. “Dennis doesn’t have any friends.”

Abby smiled sympathetically. It seemed that even amongst the other personalities Dennis was an outcast. Just like he was in the real world.

“Once upon a time he did,” Abby nodded.

Adam started to babble as he looked at Barry. Barry returned his gaze to Adam and smiled. The child was adorable and had the most hypnotizing, bright, pool-blue eyes.

“Who’s this little guy?” Barry motioned towards the child.

Abby smiled again and looked at Adam, who was enthralled with Barry.

“This is Adam,” she introduced him.

Barry reached forward and chuckled as Adam grasped his tiny fingers around Barry’s index finger. Abby watched with a saddened expression as Adam held the finger of the man who he would never know as his biological father. Although she was very happy with Frank, she couldn’t help but wonder how different things would be if Dennis hadn’t taken her to the police station that cold, wintery night.

“He turns one today,” Abby said. “We’re having a birthday party for him over there with the rest of the family,” she motioned towards the pavilion.

Barry looked in the direction that Abby had motioned towards and saw a man looking back at him. He raised his hand in acknowledgment. Frank waved back.

“You’ve got a strong grip there, little man,” Barry said as he shook Adam’s little hand. “And the brightest eyes I’ve ever seen.”

Abby agreed, “Just like his father.”

Barry looked at her and smiled. Adam released his grip and Barry placed his hand on his hip.

“I’m sorry, I didn’t catch your name,” Barry held his hand out for a handshake.

“Abby,” she introduced herself, placing her hand in his.

His grip was so different from Dennis’s. His hands were rough, probably from the physical work that he had to do. His strength didn’t seem to match Dennis’s. Barry seemed to be a gentle soul.

Barry felt a strange sensation course through his body when his hand touched Abby’s. Brief snippets of images of Abby in his home bounced through his head. Images of her dancing, of her looking up at him from beneath him, of him kissing her.

“Well, we should be getting back to the party,” Abby retracted her hand and returned it to Adam. “It was nice meeting you, Barry.”

She sidestepped and began to walk away.

“You too,” he said lightly as he extended his jaw to the side as he tried to make sense of what just happened.

He heard more laughing in the distance and looked at where it was coming from. He saw the group of girls from that high school, probably still laughing about what they did. He felt vulnerable and upset about what had happened. They had grabbed his hands and placed it under their shirts on their breasts, something that Barry would never dream of doing, especially to girls still in high school. Suddenly, he felt a sharp pain in his head.

“Ahh,” he groaned as he turned around and stumbled towards the sign, holding his head as he gritted his teeth.

He leaned his forearm against the large sign to support himself through the discomfort. The pain became agonizing. His throat clenched up and he felt his face turn red with exertion. His jaw remained locked as he struggled to breathe through the pain but was unable. The vein in his neck pulsated as his vision began to slip.

Dennis breathed a sigh of relief and continued breathing shakily until he calmed himself. He shook his head and rubbed his eyes as he tried to adjust his sight to his surroundings. He was at work; he was at the zoo. He needed his glasses; he had a difficult time seeing without them. He stood tall and brushed the dust off of his arm that had transferred to him from the sign, a look of disgust on his face in reaction to the filth.

He licked his lips and looked at the people walking past him. Such disgusting, impure creatures. He stopped when he saw a familiar face at the pavilion holding a baby. He got a fluttering feeling in the pit of his stomach.

“Abby,” he whispered.


	26. Sacred Food

 

“Are you certain?” Patricia asked, a hint of eagerness in her voice.

“Pretty certain,” Dennis nodded. “It looked just like her. Just like I remember. And she was holding a baby.”

Patricia gasped and clasped her hands together in front of her chest. She _did_ have a baby. Patricia knew it, she just _knew_ it.

“Dennis, do you know what this means?” she asked with a content sigh as she began to pace the room, too excited to stand still. “It means that it’s time. It’s time for Him to feast, to gain His strength to make His entrance into the world.”

Dennis bobbed his head in agreement.

For the past year and nearly nine months, Patricia had educated Dennis about the Beast. A plan was developed regarding how He will obtain His nourishment and strength to begin the process of cleansing the world of the impure, the unburned, the unscathed, the unworthy. Actually seeing the Beast solidified his faith in the Beast’s power and abilities. How wrong he had been before to doubt Patricia and the Beast.

“What about Abby?” Dennis asked.

Patricia sighed and shook her head with a slight giggle. “After all this time, you are still so smitten. Very well,” she inhaled, “once the Beast has arrived, He will help us find her again.”

“What about the baby?”

“Well,” Patricia started, “a child needs its mother. Abby and the child will both come with us. We can finally be the family we have always dreamed of having.”

Dennis didn’t know the first thing about being a father. He had never held a child. He had never been gentle enough. For Abby, though, he would do anything. He would learn; he was disciplined enough. And whatever he struggled with, surely Patricia could step in. He would walk to the edge of the earth for Abby.

“First thing’s first,” Patricia announced as she tapped her chin. “We need a sacred food source for the Beast.”

Dennis continued to think about Abby. He dreamed of holding her, of touching her, of being intimate with her. All this time locked away in Kevin’s body, he was denied the pleasures that he enjoyed most. He wanted her. He closed his eyes as he recalled the last time he was with her. She had smelled of honey and vanilla, her legs had wrapped so tightly around his waist…

“Dennis, are you listening?” Patricia noticed that he seemed distracted. “We need a young impure for the Beast to feed on. How will we decide who and where to find them?”

Dennis’s mind raced back to the incident at the zoo. Barry had been so distraught that Dennis was able to catch glimpses of images that he had seen. He recalled the name of the high school that those girls were from.

“There were these two girls,” Dennis started, remembering the nasty act that they had committed.

“No, Dennis, two is too risky,” Patricia reasoned. “We had a difficult enough time with one, remember?” she referred to Abby.

“They won’t be here nearly as long,” Dennis countered.

“I don’t know, Dennis,” she expressed her hesitancy at the thought of starting with two impures.

“With two He’ll be able to gain His strength faster,” Dennis debated. “The world isn’t going to miss two measly impure beings. I can do it.”

“Perhaps we should get a young man instead. You remember the problem with girls, don’t you?” Patricia seemed concerned. “They can be too… _distracting_ for you.”

“I won’t touch them,” Dennis promised, reminding himself of how disgusted he had been by their actions toward Barry. Besides, Abby was the one that he wanted.

“You _cannot,”_ Patricia reminded him. “That’s not what they would be here for. They aren’t Abby.”

“No one is,” Dennis acknowledged. He nodded his head. “I can do this. The Beast needs me to do this for Him.”

 

 

Four weeks later

 

Dennis opened up the door to the bedroom that he had made for Abby. Upon opening the door, he saw the girls jerk and then suddenly sit as still as statues on the two cots that had been neatly made up for their stay. He hadn’t anticipated a third girl being with them. That part was a mistake. But, so far it didn’t seem to be a problem.

Dennis unfolded the wooden chair that he had been carrying with him and carefully set it directly in front of the door. Noticing a few specks of dust, he retrieved his yellow handkerchief from his pocket and wiped the seat before he sat down, ensuring that no dust would get on his clothing. He felt all eyes on him. He could sense their fear. _Good. They should be scared. The Beast is coming for them._

He placed the handkerchief neatly back in his pocket and then hiked up his pant legs a bit so that he could comfortably sit down. He sighed and crossed his arms, first looking at the girl that he hadn’t planned on taking and then shifting his focus to the two that sat on the other cot.

He couldn’t help but be distracted by her leg, covered only by a sheer stocking and a short piece of material. Her skirt was so small; it left little to the imagination. Visions of Abby danced in his head. That morning that he had walked in and saw her bare leg and hip peeking out from the torn fabric of her tight black dress suddenly came to mind. For a brief second, he saw Abby sitting on the bed.

His breathing sped up along with his heartbeat. He saw Abby sitting on the bed, the light beaming off of her silken hair. She was smiling at him enticingly.

The girl noticed he had been staring and subtly placed her hand on her thigh, slowly reaching to pull the hem of her skirt lower to cover her leg. This made Dennis snap back to reality. He looked up at her face. Her hair was similar to Abby’s… it was the same color, albeit a bit more wavy. He couldn’t help but think of Abby. The more he thought of her, the more aroused he became. The other girls didn’t remind him of Abby as much as this one did.

“I choose you first,” Dennis pointed at the girl as he stood up and folded the chair, moving it to the office area out of his way.

“This will only be a minute,” he assured her as he returned, seeing the panic on her and the other girls’ faces.

He reached forward and jerked the dark haired girl’s arm, forcing her to stand up from the cot. She screamed and fought against him, just like Abby had done that first night he brought her here. He wrapped his arm around her waist as he forced her backward toward the door, but she managed to pry his hands away so that she could run towards the girl on the other bed.

The girl whispered something to her as she grasped her arms tightly, desperate for something solid to keep her from being taken from the room. Knowing that she wasn’t going to cooperate, Dennis wrapped his arms around the girl’s waist and lifted her up. He walked her out of the room and sat her back down once he was through the doorway. She tried to grab onto the door, onto anything, that could keep her safe. Dennis pushed her away, further into the room. She slapped him, but she was weak. She was so weak that the force from her own slap caused her to fall to the floor. She was no match for him.

Dennis felt himself becoming angry and grunted as he pulled the door shut behind him. He grabbed the girl’s arms and hoisted her to a standing position. His face was inches from hers as he studied her face, searching for any remnants of Abby that he had seen just seconds prior. He breathed in her face. She closed her eyes and whimpered. Even her scent reminded him of Abby. It was sweet and enticing.

“Dance for me,” he whispered as he slowly ran his hands down the length of her arms, dreaming that she was Abby.

“No,” the girl whimpered and cried.

Dennis’s breathing became heavier. “Please,” he whispered, barely making a sound at all. “Abby.”

“No,” the girl whined, pulling her arms away from him as he gently pawed at her.

One of the girls on the other side of the door started pounding on the door, creating an awful ruckus that was distracting to Dennis. He was becoming annoyed and impatient.

He leaned in to kiss her neck as his hands roamed lower to her hips.

“Noooo!” the girl screamed and pushed him away, backing up to escape his grasp.

He suddenly felt a jolt of electricity course through his body. He wanted to be satisfied. He pulled her back to him and reached his hand lower to her inner thighs, desperate for relief.

“Nooooo!” the girl screamed.

Dennis suddenly felt warm liquid fill his hands. He quickly pulled his hands back and looked at them, noticing that they were slick with fresh urine. He twisted his face in a disgusted grimace and forcefully grabbed the girl, pulling her back against his chest and folding her arms in front of her.

“Open the door!” a girl screamed from inside the bedroom as her incessant beating on the door echoed loudly in his ears.

Dennis opened the door and forced the disgusting girl inside, dropping her to the floor. The others girls kept their distance from him. The urine on his hand started to feel cool as the air hit it. He groaned and shook his hand, distressed and anxious to rid his hands of this filthiness.

He looked back at the girl, wanting to hit her, to hurt her. He decided against it for now. The Beast would take his time with this one, Dennis would see to it. He slammed the door shut behind him as he continued to bellow in revulsion. He hoped that the Beast would make his appearance soon so that he could get to Abby.


	27. A Beastly Discovery

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> The news report is taken verbatim from the movie.

Four Days Later

 

The small TV on the kitchen countertop was playing the morning news as Abby was getting ready for work. She could hear Adam babbling and giggling in the living room as Frank engaged him in some sort of play on the floor.

Her bagel popped up from the toaster and she tossed the two halves on a plate. She lightly rubbed her hands on her black pencil skirt to rid the tiny crumbs from her fingertips. The coffee finished brewing, filling the air with a delicious, earthy aroma that attacked her nostrils and made her alert.

“Babe, coffee’s ready,” she called out as she began to spread cream cheese onto her bagel.

Abby retrieved Frank’s thermos and a mug for herself from the hanging cabinet and picked up the coffee pot. She began to pour herself a cup of coffee as a news story started to unravel. She hardly was paying attention to it, until she heard something that sounded familiar.

_“The suspected murderer, Kevin Crumb, suffers from the controversial psychological disorder: DID. The rumors coming out of the scene are almost unbelievable.”_

Abby looked up from pouring the coffee as she heard the reporter mention DID. Dissociative Identity Disorder. _That’s what Dennis has…_ Her ears perked up as she listened to the reporter.

_“There are conflicting stories if the suspect is alive or dead after sustaining two, point-blank gunshots. Reports even indicate one of his personalities is an amalgam of the various animals in the Philadelphia Zoo where he worked.”_

“The Beast,” Abby whispered as her skin turned cold and white.

_“The press is already referring to the alleged attacker by a dark name linked by a source close to the case. Because of his many personalities, he is being called ‘The Horde.’”_

The photo that flashed across the screen was that of Dennis, or rather, Kevin Crumb. Abby had stopped breathing as she focused on the photo. It was him; there was no doubt about it. That was Dennis. The eyes would give him away, every time. Her eyes locked on his in the photo, and it was as if he was staring back at her. Her knees felt like they were about to buckle.

“Abby!” Frank said loudly to get her attention as he grabbed her wrist and tilted the coffee pot upward to stop her from pouring.

Abby looked down at the overflowed cup. Coffee had spilled all over the white countertop. She had dumped nearly half a pot of coffee.

“Shit,” Abby placed the coffee pot back on its heated base.

She rushed to grab a dish towel from the drawer to clean the mess. Frank, seeing her frantic state, tried to sooth her.

“Hey, it’s okay. It’s just a little spill.”

Abby ignored him as she soaked up the coffee with the towel. Cold sweat formed on the back of her neck. Some hairs from her tight ponytail stuck to her damp skin. She felt lightheaded. Her breathing was short and rapid. Her heart nearly beat out of her chest.

“Are you okay?” Frank asked.

She hadn’t heard him speaking to her. She was too focused on the news story that she had just heard. Dennis: a murderer. Her hands were shaking as she wiped down the countertop. She had just seen that man a month ago. He had seen her… he had seen her son, their son. A million thoughts raced through her head. _Would he come after her? Would he try to kill her? Was the Beast real? Would he try to hurt Adam? Would he hurt Frank? Would he KILL Frank?_

“Abby,” Frank said, grabbing her shoulders and standing her upright. “Stop.”

Abby snapped out of her daze and saw the worried expression on Frank’s face. He couldn’t understand what had gotten into her, what had her so rattled.

“What’s wrong?” he asked.

Abby glanced back at the TV, but a new story was being covered. She swallowed hard and then exhaled as she closed her eyes to recuperate. Frank looked briefly at the TV for a clue and then back at Abby, trying to read the expression on her face.

“Was it something on the news?” he asked.

Unable to speak, she nodded her head in agreement.

“What was it?” he asked gently for clarification, rubbing his thumbs over the silk shoulders of her bright red blouse.

She nodded at the TV. “That Kevin Crumb guy,” she managed to say.

Frank nodded his head in acknowledgement. “What about him?”

“Are you on that case?” Abby’s eyebrows were raised in trepidation.

Frank shook his head. “Not even my precinct,” he assured her. “Why do you ask?”

 _Tell him,_ Abby said to herself. _Tell him why. Tell him what happened._

She thought for a moment. The chances of someone surviving two, point-blank gunshots was slim. Chances were that even if he did survive, he would run. He would be on his way to somewhere like New York City, where it would be easy to get lost in a crowd of millions. He would want to lay low, not draw attention to himself. At least, that’s what Abby would do in that situation. She shook her head and wiped the sweat from the back of her neck with her palm.

“Nothing,” she lied. “Nothing, it’s just… it’s so close to home.”

That much was true. Crime occurred in the city every day. She was thankful that they were in the suburbs, about twenty miles outside of the city. The crimes did not usually make their way into their neighborhood. Even if they did, Abby and Frank’s house was more secluded than any other house in the immediate area. They lived at the end of a residential street, with a long, cobblestone driveway that helped keep their home private from the road. Trees and bushes that lined the perimeter of their property in combination with the wrought iron fence and the distance from the main road kept them well isolated. But still, she was directly connected to him, to this Kevin Crumb.

“Hey,” he lulled as he pulled her in for a hug, “you have nothing to worry about.”

Abby closed her eyes and breathed in his aftershave as she rested her cheek against his chest. She started to feel calmer already being in his arms.

“How much of the story do you know?” Abby asked, listening to the soothing _thumping_ in his chest.

Frank inhaled, “A good bit,” and then exhaled.

Abby stepped back from his hug and looked at his face with pleading eyes. “What happened?”

He sighed and averted his eyes from hers. “Abby.”

“I want to know,” she responded immediately, moving her head so that he would look at her again.

Frank looked down at her with a pained expression on his face, contemplating if the information he knew would make her more upset.

“Please, Frank,” she begged.

She was just so sweet, he couldn’t deny her.

“He, uh… kidnapped three girls, high school aged,” Frank started.

Abby stopped breathing as she listened to the story, worried that the sound of her own breaths would distract her from being able to hear everything Frank was telling her.

“One escaped. She reported that she shot him twice at point-blank range with a shotgun.”

“And they don’t know if he’s alive or dead?” Abby recalled the news reporter.

Frank chuckled. “Trust me. No one is surviving two, point-blank shots from a shotgun.”

“What happened to the other girls? You said there were three.”

Frank licked his lips and looked at her worried doe eyes.

“They didn’t make it,” Frank tried to refrain from announcing the gruesome details that had been relayed to him.

“Why?” Abby continued to question, wanting to know everything.

“He…” Frank paused, trying to think of a less grotesque way of wording it, but he couldn’t. “He… _ate…_ parts of them.”

Abby’s stomach dropped so suddenly that she had to clutch her abdomen with her hand. She turned her back to Frank and took a few steps to the island in the kitchen. She placed her other hand over her mouth and clenched her eyes tightly shut.

This had to be done by the Beast that Patricia and Hedwig had always been talking about. Regardless, things have gone too far, and Dennis was now out of control. He was dangerous.

“You okay?” Frank approached her and cautiously rubbed the palm of his hand up and down her back.

Abby removed her hand from her mouth and took a few breaths. “Yeah, I just,” she opened her eyes, “as a parent, I can’t imagine losing a child like that.”

As if on cue, Adam started to squeal from the other room as he sat in his pack-and-play.

“Speak of the devil,” Frank grinned and leaned forward, placing a soft kiss on the side of Abby’s neck. “Are you going to be okay?”

Abby vehemently shook her head. “Yeah, yeah, I’ll be fine. You should get going. You’re going to be late,” she forced a smile at him.

Frank bit the inside of his lip, sensing that Abby was still quite upset. “You sure?”

“Yeah,” Abby lied.

She turned around and walked past him to retrieve his thermos. She poured the remaining half pot of coffee into his thermos as well as the coffee from the mug she had poured for herself. She felt bad that she had wasted so much coffee, especially because she had brewed most of it for Frank to take. Plus, she no longer had an appetite for anything. Nothing was appealing right now.

She screwed the lid onto the thermos and placed it back on the countertop.

“Are you okay to take him to my mom’s?” Frank asked as he looked into the living room at little Adam, standing and peeking through the mesh wall of his playpen.

“Yeah, I’ll drop him off in a few minutes on my way to work,” Abby stated.

“Okay,” Frank smiled and grabbed his large, black lunchbox from the kitchen island.

He leaned in and placed a kiss on her cheek. Abby smiled in return. As he started to pull away, she leaned forward and returned his kiss with a peck on the lips.

“Have a good day,” Frank wished her well as he turned and headed out the door.

“You too,” she stared blankly at the door as he left.

Abby sighed and rubbed her temples with her fingers as she walked through the doorway of the living room. She looked at Adam. He smiled at her and giggled as she leaned her shoulder against the wall. He was so sweet. Such a happy child. But, she couldn’t help but wonder: would he grow up to be like his father? Would he grow up to hurt people? Is that disposition engrained in him?

She felt guilty for having these thoughts about her own child, but it seemed that everything she thought she knew about the world was wrong. Everything she thought she knew about Dennis was wrong. She shivered as she thought about what could have happened to her if she had stayed. Would she have ended up on the six o’clock news as a murder victim? …Will she still?

The kitchen door opened behind her and loud footsteps rapidly crossed the tile floor. Abby jumped and gasped as she turned around, fearful of seeing Dennis or the Beast forcing his way into the house.

Frank looked at her, like a deer in headlights, as he paused with his hand on his thermos.

“Sorry,” he realized he had startled her. “Forgot my coffee again.”

Abby sighed and nodded her head as she placed her hand over her heart to calm it. Frank smiled and winked at her as he left the house for the second time. She should have known it was him. He forgets his coffee usually four days out of the week. She smiled back at him as he left.

Adam squealed and squawked as he tried to chew through the mesh wall of his little enclosure. Abby turned to look at him. He smiled again when he saw her and then resumed chewing.

Abby sighed and walked towards him. She needed to get to work. She needed to have something to distract her. Hopefully, as the day passed, her nerves would settle down. Additionally, she would feel safer being around other people. Luckily, as a teacher at a junior high school, she would be surrounded by hundreds of people.


	28. Somebody's Eyes are Watching

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This scene is based off the alternate ending, which really doesn't change the events of the movie/implications at the end. For those of you unfamiliar with the alternate ending, Dennis and Patricia are sitting on top of a building, watching the "impure" as they leave a school.

 

The dismissal bell rang loudly at three o’clock. As if their chairs were all of a sudden on fire, all of Abby’s students jumped from their seats and hurriedly grabbed their belongings.

“Okay, guys,” Abby raised her voice to be heard over the excited end-of-the-day commotion. “Please make sure you read through Chapter Seven.” It seemed liked no one was paying attention. She cupped her hands over her mouth. “I’m going to be quizzing you on Monday!”

Abby smiled as her students said good-bye to her and rushed out the door. She waited until her classroom was cleared before walking through the hall. Her heels _clicked_ on the tile floors as she made her way through the sea of children to the main doors for bus duty. A fellow teacher was already outside, and she took her place beside her.

The Horde sat perched on top of the edge of a tall building across the street from the school. The noise of shouting children echoed through the cool, autumn air. Dennis’s eyes scanned the crowd in disgust.

“Look at all those unbroken souls,” he scowled, sitting cross-legged with his hands resting on his folded knees.

“Such a waste,” Patricia calmly agreed with her proper English accent.

“Can I go play?” Hedwig asked, excited to see the children.

“Hedwig, they’re food for the Beast. We don’t play with food,” Patricia rolled her eyes.

With their ability to share the light at the same time, Dennis was impressed with his ability to see and hear from long distances, like a hawk. He was more in tune to his senses. All of them. The Beast allowed him to have magnificent power that he never dreamed was possible.

“Bye, Ms. Altmire,” he heard a boy say.

His focus zoomed in to the crowd below to where he heard the voice. He saw her. Standing at the bottom of the steps, halfway between the school busses and the school, she waited. She was as radiant and beautiful as ever.

“There,” Dennis pointed.

Patricia gazed below. “Good heavens,” she serenely stated. “Is that really her? She looks magnificent.”

Dennis nodded his head as he studied her from afar. He got that familiar, tingly feeling he felt the first time he had watched her. In those weeks before he had taken her, he felt exhilarated to watch her without her knowing. He had learned so much about her, just from observing her behaviors, watching her movements, and listening to her speak. He felt like this was a blast from the past.

A gentle wind picked up and blew her ponytail to the side. Dry leaves rustled across the cement walkway and steps leading up to the school. He caught her scent mixed in with the cool air. Vanilla and honey. He closed his eyes as he allowed the pleasant aroma to fill his senses. It pacified him and stimulated him all at the same time.

When he opened his eyes again, he resumed his gaze upon her. Her legs appeared longer in that tight pencil skirt and black stiletto heels. Her red, silk blouse clung to her body as the wind pushed it against her skin. She laughed and twirled the pendent of her necklace as she engaged the other woman in conversation. Dennis licked his bottom lip as his eyes roamed over her body, from top to bottom and back up again.

“I have to go see her,” Dennis said as he started to push himself from where he sat.

“No,” Patricia quickly stopped him. “We must wait. Too many eyes.”

Dennis knew she was right. He resumed his position atop the building and hunched his back as he leaned over to watch Abby. As the occupied busses began to pull away, he became disappointed to see that she was walking back inside.

“Patience is a virtue,” Patricia reminded him, sensing his frustration.

 

 

Abby sat at her wooden desk, continuing to read and grade papers. She hated staying late, especially on Fridays, but she knew there would be no peace and quiet at home to read them with a clear head. There is _never_ peace and quiet when a toddler is around, and if there is, then it is suspicious.

“You’re the last one here,” an older voice disrupted her.

She looked up at the doorway to see the custodian, Mr. Greene, standing with his mop and wheeled bucket. She smiled at him and lowered the paper she was reading onto the surface of her desk.

“Besides me, of course,” he chuckled as he slumped the mop into the soapy water and wrung it out. “Now tell me,” he said as the soaking mop sloshed onto the floor, “what’s a twenty-something, newly engaged mama doing here on a Friday night?”

Abby chuckled and lifted the paper back up to show him. “Early Years of the Republic and one-year-olds don’t mix,” she acknowledged. “This is my last one, then I’m leaving, I promise.”

He laughed and shook his head at her dedication. She was probably the most dedicated teacher at the school. She always stayed late.

He walked away from her door and resumed his own work. Abby looked at her watch. It was nearly six o’clock. She sighed and looked out the long row of windows of her first-story classroom. It was pitch black outside. She could hardly see anything because the lights of her room were so bright and reflecting off the glass. She shivered at the thought that someone could be watching her and she would be completely oblivious. The fine hairs on her arms stood at attention as she considered that _he_ could be out there.

She shook the thought from her head and resumed reading her last student paper, finishing by writing a few comments at the end in her signature red pen. Just as she flipped the paper over and into the completed bin, her cell phone screen lit up and her phone vibrated against the desktop. She smiled when she saw that it was Frank calling her.

She swiped the green button on her phone and answered the call. “Hi, babe.”

“Ma’am,” Frank started in a serious tone, “we’ve been getting complaints about a hardworking teacher who is just too hot for her own damn good.”

She smiled at his playfulness. “Oh really?” she asked in a husky voice.

“I’m afraid so ma’am,” he smiled. “She’s causing quite a disturbance in the school.”

Abby giggled. “She sounds like trouble.”

“That’s what we’re afraid of, ma’am. Now, am I going to have to come in there and remove her by force, or will she surrender willingly?”

Abby smiled and leaned back in her chair and glanced over at the doorway to ensure that Mr. Greene wasn’t nearby. In a raspy voice, she played along, “Well, that depends, Officer. Are you going to… handcuff her?”

“Mm-hmm,” he hummed from deep within his throat. “I might even have to use my… _nightstick_.”

Abby blushed and laughed loudly, covering her mouth and looking at the doorway, fearful that Mr. Greene would have heard their discussion. “You take things too far.”

“What?” Frank laughed and acted as if he hadn’t said anything. “Are you almost done? I’m parked out front. Figured I could give you an escort home.”

Abby sat up in her chair and shuddered a bit at the realization that she couldn’t see him or his vehicle outside. However, she felt safe that he was there.

“Yeah, I’ll get my stuff and be out in a minute. Bye, goober.”

“Bye, love,” he smiled and lowered the phone from his ear to end the call.

Frank was parked in the designated bus zone, directly in front of the main doors. He sat against the hood of his police cruiser and placed the phone in his shirt pocket. He rubbed his hands together to warm them from the evening’s bitter air. He could still see the lights on in Abby’s classroom, the third one to the left of the doors. The rest of the building was lit with security lights on the inside, dimmer than her classroom, but bright enough that she would be able to see clearly as she made her exit for the night.

Abby pulled her purse from the deep, bottom drawer and sat it on top of the desk. She tossed her cellphone inside and slipped on her blazer jacket, knowing that the air would be chilly. She gathered her items and made her way to the door. Her heels _click-clacked_ across the classroom. She turned and did a quick look-over to make sure everything would be in order for Monday. When she was satisfied, she turned off the light and pulled the door shut behind her.

Abby took a few steps away from her classroom when she heard a loud _bang_ from behind her, like someone slamming a door. She jumped and clutched at her heart as she spun around. The hall was empty and dark, save for the security lights.

“Mr. Greene?” Abby called out, figuring that he would be the only person left in the building.

No one answered her. She started to feel nervous. She had to get outside to Frank. She turned around and resumed briskly walking in the direction of the exit. Suddenly, the lights all went out as the electricity whirred and gradually dissipated into a low hum. She heard the electricity drain from within the walls and finally die to nothingness. She stopped in her tracks, suddenly feeling blind and completely exposed.

Abby panicked and began searching through her purse to find her cellphone to use as a light. From the ceiling across the hall, the Beast watched her silently. He clung to the ceiling with his fingertips and bare feet, his head upside down. He slowly began to move forward, cautious to remain as soundless as possible as he seemingly slithered over the ceiling toward her. As he moved over her, he saw Abby suddenly still. He continued to move until he was behind her.

Abby heard a muffled shuffling sound approach. Unable to find her phone in the mess she calls a purse, and wanting to get out of there, Abby dragged her hand along the smooth wall to help guide her to the exit. Her heels tapped with every slow, cautious step she took.

The Beast softly lowered himself from the ceiling and dropped to the floor, landing on his feet with a light _slap_ sound as his skin made contact with the cold, hard floor. Abby heard this noise and stopped walking, listening for another noise behind her. Her eyes began to adjust to the dark with the help of the reflection from the streetlamps outside.

She heard breathing a few paces back. She swallowed hard as she willed her body to move but was paralyzed in fear. The breathing seemed to be getting closer, and closer, and closer. The Beast was curious about her. He could smell her fear, and it smelled delicious. Her legs shook and her breath hitched in her throat. She swore she felt a breath, hot on her neck.

The electricity whirred again as she heard a loud clicking and humming sound and the lights flickered several times before settling on. Abby quickly turned and looked behind her, expecting to see a monster. There was nothing. Her eyes hastily scanned the hallway. All the doors were locked, and everything was in place.

Not wasting another second, Abby adjusted the strap of her purse over her shoulder and jogged towards the exit. The Beast watched from his spot on the ceiling directly above her.


	29. Reunited

 

Abby came downstairs from completing some of the household chores while Frank fed Adam his lunch. She turned at the bottom of the stairs and walked down a short hallway to the kitchen. She stopped and laughed when she saw the mess on Adam’s face. Frank looked up from reading the newspaper at the kitchen table to see what she was laughing at, and he chuckled, himself.

Adam’s hands, face, and arms were covered in bits of spaghetti and marinara sauce. He even had it in his golden brown hair. He was obviously enjoying himself. He didn’t even look up at Abby or Frank; he just continued to smear the sauce and leftover pieces of spaghetti around on his tray.

“Uh oh,” Abby laughed, “someone needs a bath.”

Abby started to remove the tray from the high chair and unbuckled Adam.

“What time are you leaving for work?” Abby asked as she picked up Adam, his sauce covered hand leaving a perfect print on her shoulder.

Frank looked at his watch. “In about twenty minutes.”

“Okay,” Abby said. “If I’m still upstairs, come say goodbye to me. I’m going to bathe him and then put him down for his nap.”

“Okay, sweetie,” he smiled at her and then resumed reading the paper.

Twenty minutes later, Abby came back downstairs and sat next to Frank at the table. She turned on the baby monitor that had been in her hand. A mix of white noise and static hummed lightly from the monitor.

“He started to fall asleep during his bath,” Abby sighed. “Carb coma.”

Frank chuckled but continued to read the paper. Abby caught a glimpse of the headline on the front page. _Police Still Searching for Kevin Crumb._ Abby leaned forward to read the article. Frank held the paper at an angle, focused on a story on the inner pages. He noticed that Abby was fixated on the front page. He closed the paper to see what she was looking at. When he saw the title, he exhaled and looked at Abby.

She sat back in her chair, as if she had not been interested in the article at all. She avoided looking at Frank but felt his eyes on her anyway. She eventually peeked out of the corner of her eye at him.

“What is it?” Frank asked, sensing something was wrong.

Abby shook her head as if to tell him that nothing was wrong.

“Honey,” he folded the paper and set it on the table. “I told you. You have nothing to worry about. This guy is far away from here by now.”

Abby inhaled. She had to tell him. She wanted to tell him. She opened her mouth to speak, but she couldn’t make the words come out. She closed her mouth again and smiled reassuringly at him, nodding her head.

“I’m sure you’re right.”

He reached over and patted her knee. He looked down at his watch and had a sudden sense of urgency. He should have left the house several minutes ago.

“Shit, I gotta go. I’m going to be late,” he stood up and pushed his chair in.

Frank leaned down and kissed Abby on top of her head. “Love you.”

Abby smiled when she looked back up at him. “Love you, too.”

After he left, Abby looked down at the newspaper that he had left on the table. Frank was probably right. She shouldn’t worry herself. The more she looked at his photograph on the front page, however, the more compelled she felt to read the story.

There had been three murders: two young women and a psychologist. _His_ psychologist. _The doctor,_ she thought to herself. She had remembered one of them saying something about the doctor finding out.

“Hmmmm,” she heard a long, contented sigh coming from the monitor.

Thinking that her mind was just playing tricks on her, she looked at the monitor and listened. Nothing. Just the sounds of static that she normally heard were evident. She picked up the device and held it up to her ear. After several seconds, she heard it again. A feminine voice was humming Brahms’ Lullaby.

 _Patricia._ Abby gasped and sprang from her seat, the wooden chair scraping against the tile floor with a loud, short shriek. Abby grasped the monitor tightly in her hand and listened as she bolted down the hall and up the stairs to Adam’s room. His door was shut. She turned the knob and ran into the room, terrified that someone had broken into the house to take her baby.

Upon entering Adam’s room, nothing seemed out of place. She saw no one. Abby’s heart was pounding ferociously within her chest. She quickly walked up to Adam’s crib, fearful of the worst. What she saw relieved her. Adam was fast asleep. He looked peaceful and undisturbed. Abby sighed and tried to catch her breath.

She looked over at his closet door. It was slightly ajar. She hadn’t remembered leaving it open. Cautiously, she approached it, gripping the monitor tightly in her hand and pulling it back so that she could smash someone in the face with it if she needed to. Her breathing was rigid as she shakily took hold of the brass knob. She held her breath as she swung the door open and stepped back, ready for an attack. Instead, she saw nothing but hangers, little outfits, and Adam’s other belongings. Nobody was there.

She sighed with relief again. She shook her head at her reaction and thoughts. Her mind had been playing tricks on her. She was so worked up over this news of Dennis— Kevin Crumb— that her mind was merely making her hear things that weren’t there. Adam was safe. She was safe.

Abby closed the door and glanced back at Adam’s crib to ensure he was still sleeping. He was. She slowly walked towards his door and stepped out into the hallway, gently closing the door behind her. She looked at the door as she closed it, careful to make sure she did not slam it. Once it was shut, she turned to face the stairs.

“Abby,” Dennis said from behind her as he grabbed her wrist and pulled her back.

Abby gasped and dropped the monitor as she was pushed up against the wall in the upstairs hallway. Dennis put his index finger up to his lips and shushed her as he closed the distance between them. Abby started to silently cry and tremble. He terrified her. This wasn’t the same man she had fallen in love with almost two years ago. This was a monster.

“I’ve missed you,” Dennis whispered as he started to lean in to kiss her lips. Abby quickly reached up and placed her hands on his chest in protest.

Just then, the kitchen door opened downstairs. Dennis panicked and cupped his hand over Abby’s mouth to keep her quiet. He looked at her and slowly raised his other finger to his lips to signal to her to be quiet. His eyes then trailed over to look at the stairway. Abby’s eyes widened, wondering what he would do to her, wondering if Frank would come upstairs.

“Just me, babe. Forgot my coffee again,” Frank said loudly from the kitchen so she could hear. “See ya.”

They heard the door close again. Disappointed that Frank had been in and out so quickly without any awareness of what was going on upstairs, Abby closed her eyes once more. Dennis listened intently as Frank’s car started and drove further down the driveway. He looked back at Abby again and smirked while lowering his hand from her mouth.

“That was close,” he looked at her quivering lips.

His hand traveled down to the side of her chest before coming to a rest on her hip. He leaned his other hand against the wall, beside Abby’s shoulder. Abby opened her eyes and looked at him. His eyes seemed different, darker. She looked down at his bare chest to avoid eye contact. She noticed two wounds: one over his heart and one on his lower abdomen. Blood had dried over these areas.

“Patricia says he looks like me,” Dennis breathed in her face. She didn’t respond. “He’s mine, isn’t he?” She still didn’t answer. He removed his hand from the wall and grabbed her chin, forcing her to lift her head to look at him. “Isn’t he?”

Abby’s mouth and throat felt dry. She tried to moisten her lips by licking them, but it was no use.

“He’s Frank’s,” she lied, desperate to protect her child.

Dennis narrowed his eyes at her and dropped his hand from her face. He rubbed his mouth and stretched his jaw.

“Why do you do that? Why are you lying to me?” he asked calmly, seemingly hurt. “Have I ever lied to you? Hmm?” he leaned closer to her so she would look into his eyes.

She looked scared. He wanted to comfort her, to ensure her that everything would be okay. That they were together again.

“Come here,” he whispered as he placed his finger under her chin and leaned closer. “Kiss me.”

As Dennis’s face came closer to hers, Abby turned her head and closed her eyes, trying to disappear into the wall. He made contact with her cheek, his lips lingering as he inhaled her sweet, familiar scent. He could also smell her fear. He stepped back and examined her face.

“What’s the matter with you?” he asked accusingly. “Why are you acting this way?”

She quickly tried to think of what to say so as not to anger him. She knew if she said nothing at all that he would likely be just as angry.

“You killed those people,” Abby stated in a barely audible whisper. “Those poor people.”

“No,” Dennis shook his head. “No, Abby, listen to me. They would have never reached their full potential. They didn’t matter.”

Abby let out a sob and hung her head.

“You and, and, and me,” he stammered, grabbing onto her shoulders and rubbing them with his thumb, “and the baby… that’s all that matters. The Beast, Patricia… we have each other now. That’s all that matters. ”

Abby shook her head as tears freely fell down her cheek and neck. “What have they done to you?” she wept. “Dennis, this isn’t you. They’ve brainwashed you.”

Dennis groaned and stepped back from her, placing his hands on his hips.

“The Beast can’t be real, Dennis,” Abby continued, unable to stop herself.

“He’s real,” Dennis quickly responded.

“You killed those people,” Abby said. “You can’t be here. You need to go. My fiancé is a police officer, you need to go.”

She had hoped that mentioning Frank’s involvement with law enforcement would be enough to make Dennis want to leave to avoid capture. Instead, Dennis chuckled. His response was eerie.

“Police are no match for us. We’re more than human now. No man can defeat us.”

“You’re scaring me,” Abby cried.

“I don’t mean to,” he stepped towards her, placing his hands on her waist. “Hey,” he gently cooed as he raised his hand to her cheek. Her warmth felt so comforting.

She turned her head to escape his touch. He noticed this, and it frustrated him. He wanted her. He had hoped that their reunion would have been different than this. He had dreamed of her running back into his arms, of holding her tightly against him. He slid his thumb to the other side of her face and gripped her jaw tightly, turning her head to face him. She looked at him with such fear and revulsion.

Dennis slowly arched his neck forward to kiss her. Abby raised her hands and pushed against his chest. He ignored her protests and kissed her on the lips. She tightened her lips together, refusing to return the kiss. Dennis pulled back and looked at her with lustful eyes. He leaned forward again, but this time Abby slapped his face.

Dennis felt himself changing. His body suddenly felt hot. Abby gulped and panted as he pushed her against the wall and pressed his chest against her own. His breathing had changed. It was deeper and more grunt-like. The heat radiating from his body caused Abby to sweat.

His skin appeared flush. His purple veins became engorged and more apparent all throughout his arms, chest, and neck. He exhaled loudly out of his nose, his breathing sounding more and more animalistic, almost like a gorilla. She realized that this was the same sound she had heard last night at work when the lights were out. They stood, staring at each other, nearly nose-to-nose.

Dragging her body against the wall, Abby sidestepped to get away from him. He was petrifying. To her surprise, he allowed her to step out from in front of him. She slowly walked backwards away from him, keeping her eyes on him the entire time in order to safely gauge the distance between them. It was then that she noticed he was barefoot, wearing only the dark pants that Dennis typically wore. He walked towards her, matching each step that she took, his footsteps nearly soundless.

The look in his eyes was rapacious. Like a predator stalking his prey, his head was down as he looked up at her through hooded eyes, his ears pushed back. She feared for her safety. Her eyes darted behind her quickly to measure the distance between her and the bedroom door, hopeful that she could escape from him to call the police. When she looked back at him, he grinned.

Abby decided to bolt. She turned and ran, only to be caught within the door way. He growled as he wrapped his arms around her torso, trapping her arms compactly against her body. He squeezed so tightly that she couldn’t make a sound. She wriggled and writhed, desperate to evade him, but his strength was even greater than she had remembered.

He looked at the bed and smiled, kicking the door shut behind him.


	30. Deja Vu

 

He threw her onto the bed. She crawled up as high onto the bed as she could get and turned around, leaning her back against the headboard.

“Dennis, please,” Abby said in a panicked state, holding her hands out in front of her. “Please, Dennis, stop.”

Staring at her with desire, he followed her path onto the bed. He wrapped his fingers around her ankles and pulled her down on the bed to lay her flat. He slowly crawled over top of her body, placing his legs on either side of hers.

“Dennis, please,” she cried and begged, shaking in fear. “Please, don’t hurt me, Dennis, please, please, please. Don’t hurt me. Don’t hurt me.” Her words seemed to trail off as she ran out of breath and her energy escaped her body along with the fear. Her lips continued to move to say _“Don’t hurt me, please,”_ but no sound came out.

He stopped and looked at her face directly beneath his. She was crying; she was terrified of him. Like liquid through a straw, his veins slowly started to disappear from sight. His skin returned to its normal state. Dennis shook his head and blinked his eyes several times, closing them tightly and then opening them again as he adjusted to the scene before him.

He was still excited; he still wanted her, but not like this. He immediately swung his leg over her and rolled off the bed. He paced the length of the bed, rubbing his buzzed hair nervously as he tried to calm himself down. Abby took this opportunity to sit up and return to her spot at the top of the bed, knees to her chest and arms wrapped protectively around her legs.

“I’m sorry,” Dennis said softly while he continued to pace. “When I get angry… or weak… He takes over. I can’t help it,” he explained.

He turned around and looked at her. She was staring at him through teary eyes. Her body was hunched over to make herself as small as possible.

“Abby,” he swallowed and walked to the bed, sitting in front of her. She twitched and pulled back slightly. He took this as a sign to not touch her just yet. “I’m sorry. Do you believe me? I’m sorry.”

Not wanting to upset him further, Abby played along. “Yes.”

Dennis sighed with relief and pressed his lips together in a tight smile.

“I’ve missed you,” he said, scooting closer to her.

She carefully shifted her legs in the opposite direction in an attempt to avoid touching him.

“I thought about you every day,” Dennis revealed his obsession to her. “Dreamed about… when we could be together again.”

Abby realized that Dennis’s hope was for them to be a family. She worried about how to let him down easy, that they could never be together again. He was different now. He was far too unstable for her to ever feel safe with him again. Just look at what he almost did to her. Would this be her life from now on? Walking on eggshells and constantly having to look over her shoulder anytime Dennis felt angry or weak? And that was just Dennis. What about Patricia and Hedwig? When would the Beast take over when they had the light?

This Beast was alarmingly strong. He had picked her up as if she weighed nothing at all. His appearance was dark and menacing. From what she had read in the paper, he had done awful, horrible things to people. What would he do to her if he became angry? If she said or did something that he didn’t like? If _Adam_ made him angry…

“Dennis,” Abby shook her head and began lightly, trying to muster the courage to finish the rest of her sentence. “I’m with Frank now. We’re going to be married.”

Dennis’s jaw tensed and flexed at this revelation. He looked away from her momentarily, trying to remain in control. He chuckled softly to himself. Abby wasn’t sure what to make of his response. He looked at her again, his small smile disappearing into a serious expression.

“Patricia told me that you would move on,” he shook his head. “How am I supposed to do that? Knowing that another man is raising _my_ son… fucking _my_ girl…”

He licked his bottom lip and then bit it.

“What was I supposed to do, Dennis?” Abby started shakily. “I was alone, I was scared, I was pregnant,” she paused. “Frank is a good man. Adam is well taken care of.”

“Do you love him?” Dennis cut her off. Abby fearfully looked into his eyes, knowing that either way she answered could be a death sentence for someone. “Do you love him?” he repeated.

Abby nodded her head, _yes._

Dennis bowed his head, hurt at her response. He had thought he and Abby had something special. What they had experienced in those five weeks together was intense and passionate.

“Do you love _me?”_ Dennis asked, raising his head to look at her yet again.

Abby shook her head slowly. “I don’t even know you anymore.”

“You have my heart, how could you not know me?” he raised his voice immediately.

Abby felt guilty. At one point in time she did love him. But, that was then, and this is now.

“You,” he stopped himself when he saw the tiny handprint on her shirt. “You have sauce on your shirt,” he sounded distressed. “Take it off. Please.”

Abby looked down at the marinara sauce that Adam had deposited there.

“Just take it off,” Dennis told her again, pushing himself up from the bed and walking over to the dresser against the side wall.

Dennis opened the top drawer and stopped when he saw her panties and bras. He closed his eyes as he allowed his hand to reach in and feel the soft material. As he continued to fish through the drawer, reveling in the intimate attire, his hand came across something cold and hard. It jingled when he touched it. He wrapped his fingers around it and pulled it from the drawer. Handcuffs. Dennis hooked his finger through one of the cuffs and allowed it to dangle in his grasp. He raised an eyebrow at Abby who immediately turned as red as a beet.

“Is this what you like?” Dennis turned to face her. He became angry at the thought of another man having Abby bound to do with as he liked.

“Frank is a cop,” Abby tried to explain the handcuffs.

Dennis nodded his head and flipped the handcuffs upward in his hand so that he could hold onto both cuffs. He closed the drawer and opened the next one. He found a shirt and tossed it to Abby.

“Put this on,” he said as he continued to rummage through the drawers, pulling out several items of Abby’s clothes.

“What are you doing?” Abby asked as she saw Dennis put on one of Frank’s t-shirts.

“We’re leaving,” he said.

“Where will you go?” Abby asked, almost experiencing relief at the thought of him leaving and never returning.

“We’re, as in: you, me, and the baby,” he corrected her, walking over to the bed and depositing the several changes of clothes he had grabbed, both Frank’s and Abby’s items.

“No,” Abby said, standing from the bed, “Dennis, you can’t take Adam.”

“We’re going to be together. You’re coming with me,” he placed his hands on his hips and nodded his head as if he were scolding a small child.

“Look, look,” Abby said in a panic, removing her shirt. “I’m listening to you, I’ll do whatever you say, whatever you want me to do.”

Dennis looked down at her chest. Her breasts were perfectly rounded and plump, pushed together by her bra to reveal cleavage that he could get lost in. She left her shirt off for him to look. Her chest rose and fell with each breath she took.

“You see this?” Abby held up her stained shirt. Dennis glanced at it before his eyes were drawn back to her chest. “One year olds are very messy. They get dirty and sticky every time they eat; they leave handprints and fingerprints everywhere they go… on the floor, on the walls, on your clothes…”

Dennis frowned and grunted at the thought of little, sticky, food handprints all over his clothing.

“He would need to be bathed often and his clothes changed several times a day. I know how clean and orderly you like everything to be. Trust me, Dennis, you would be very upset at all of the messes. It’s not easy,” Abby explained.

“But, we belong together,” Dennis assured Abby.

She couldn’t do this to her child. She couldn’t put her child in harm’s way. Dennis didn’t seem to be as invested in being a parent so much as he seemed invested in having Abby, and Adam just happened to be part of the deal. With Dennis’s OCD, he would never be able to keep up with Adam’s messes. He would become easily frustrated and angered at all of the messes. Even with Patricia to help, there would always be evidence of a baby.

“Then take me,” Abby offered, stepping closer toward him. Dennis looked down at her, feeling his pants grow tighter at her choice of words as well as her exposed breasts. “Leave Adam here. Let Frank worry about the messes. Take me with you, instead.”

Dennis considered all that she had just said. It was true, if he had to constantly be changing clothes and scrubbing floors and walls, he would become angered and annoyed with the child all too frequently. He hated himself for that, for everything needing to be perfect… just like Kevin’s mother. He could never see himself hurting a child over it, though. But with Adam being left with Frank, Abby wouldn’t be distracted by a child… she would be able to give her full attention and self to Dennis. That’s what he wanted. That’s all he really wanted.

“Kiss me,” Dennis’s eyes trailed up to hers. “If you really mean it, then show me.”

Abby didn’t want to, but she knew she had to do whatever she could to protect Adam. She stood on her tiptoes and tilted her head back in order to better reach his lips. Dennis wrapped his arms around her waist and pulled her closer to him, regretting putting on the shirt so soon, as it blocked him from being able to feel her skin against his. When their lips touched, Dennis felt lost in their embrace, like he would float away if he weren’t holding on to her. Abby kept her eyes closed, not to savor the moment, but to pretend that it was Frank she was kissing… to make it more bearable, knowing that these lips that she was kissing had recently been on other people’s bodies.

“Is this just a trick?” Dennis whispered.

Abby grasped his hands and placed them on her breasts before resuming kissing him. He moaned into her mouth as he gently kneaded her breasts, forgetting any doubts that Patricia had popped into his head.

Abby was already trying to think of how she would escape this situation. Now it wasn’t just a matter of dealing with Patricia and Hedwig. She now had the Beast that she would have to be watchful of, and it seemed like the Beast was better at taking the light than Hedwig was.


	31. Let's Go

 

Dennis had a tight grip on Abby’s wrist as he led her down the stairs, his other hand carrying a duffle bag full of clothes for him and her. He led her into the kitchen and turned to look at her.

“Where are your car keys?” he asked.

Abby couldn’t speak. Instead, she pointed to the basket sitting at the back corner of the countertop. Dennis and Abby walked together to the short, woven basket. He released her wrist and retrieved the collection of keys attached to her car key.

Abby glanced over at her cellphone, still plugged in to the charger, sitting on the countertop just two feet away from the basket. She tried to think of a way to grab it without him noticing. She needed to call someone. She needed to get help.

“Let’s go,” Dennis said, opening the door, and latching on to her wrist again.

Abby’s eyes bulged. “What about Adam?”

“You said to leave him here,” Dennis calmly reiterated.

“We can’t leave him _alone_ ,” Abby replied in desperation.

Dennis sighed and placed the bag on the floor and lightly tossed the keys in his hand. “We either take him with us, or we leave him here. You choose.”

Abby didn’t want Adam to come with them. She didn’t feel that she could guarantee his safety, especially if he made a mess or angered Dennis or the Beast. At the same time, however, she couldn’t guarantee his safety leaving him home alone. Too many things could happen.

“Let me call someone,” Abby suggested. Dennis sighed and briefly looked away from her as Patricia’s voice told him that it was a trick. He pushed the door shut. “Please, let me call my mother-in-law. She lives close by, she could be here with him. Please, it would put my mind at ease knowing that someone is with him.”

Dennis didn’t want to think that Patricia was right, but a part of him believed it to be true. The way Abby was acting around him, so scared and weak… she was different. And scared people do some pretty desperate and crazy things. However, he also understood her concern for Adam. He wouldn’t be able to live with himself if he knew that he was responsible for a young, innocent child getting hurt, or worse, dying.

Dennis looked at the countertop and saw the cellphone plugged in to the charger. He stood straight and pushed his shoulders back. He slowly and gracefully stepped over to unplug it and held it in his hand. He turned to look at Abby, and Abby knew this wasn’t Dennis.

“If you say _anything_ about what is going on here,” Patricia calmly threatened as she held the phone up to Abby, “I will kill you myself.” Abby swallowed. “Understood?” Abby nodded her head. “Good.”

Patricia held the phone outward for Abby to take. Abby brushed her hair behind her ear as she took the phone. Patricia quickly grasped Abby’s wrist, causing her to flinch.

“Put it on speaker,” Patricia said.

Abby nodded as she scrolled through her contacts list to find Ruth’s phone number. She selected her name and then put the call on speaker so Patricia could listen.

Abby grew more and more nervous as the phone rang without being answered. She looked at Patricia, who never took her eyes off of her. Patricia seemed to be studying her, trying to figure out what her plan was. She knew that Abby could by sly and cunning.

Ruth picked up on the fourth ring. “Hello?”

“Ruth, hi,” Abby looked down at her phone and sighed.

“Abby? Hi. Is everything okay? You don’t sound right,” Ruth responded.

“I’m fine, um,” Abby looked up at Patricia, who was staring at her with a curious smirk. “I actually… something came up, and I have to leave the house, and I don’t have anyone to watch Adam.”

“What is it, honey?” Ruth was obviously concerned.

“I don’t really have time to explain, Ruth. Could you please come to the house and watch Adam? I have to leave as soon as possible.” Abby did her best to keep her voice smooth and calm.

“I can be there in five minutes. Abby, did something happen to Frank?” she could hear the panic in Ruth’s voice.

“No, no, nothing like that,” she assured her. “It has nothing to do with Frank. Please, just get here. I need to go.”

“Okay, I’ll see you in five…” Ruth started to say, but Patricia took the phone from Abby and ended the call.

Abby swallowed her nerves and watched Patricia toss her phone across the countertop. Patricia closed her eyes briefly and sharply inhaled, opening her eyes again as Dennis. Abby had developed a knack for knowing who he was based on the way he carried himself. The difference in posture, in breathing, in the way he looked at her, all provided clues.

He slightly bent at his knees to retrieve the handle of the duffle bag. He opened the door and then turned and held his hand out to her.

“Let’s go,” he commanded calmly.

“Dennis,” Abby shook her head, “we have to wait until she gets here.” Abby took a step back.

For every step she took back, he followed. He licked his lips and held his hand out. She drew her arm back to get away from him further. He stretched his arm out more.

“Come on,” he said gently.

“Dennis,” Abby started to cry, shaking her head in refusal.

Her backside hit against the table, stopping her from being able to evade his grasp. He quickly reached forward and grabbed her wrist, pulling her away from the table. He turned around to walk towards the door, pulling Abby behind him.

“No,” she said loudly, firmly planting her feet against the floor and leaning backwards in a feeble attempt to stop him. Her dainty fingers worked to pry his vice grip from her wrist.

Dennis grunted and dropped the duffle bag to the floor, needing both hands to handle Abby’s defiance. Once the bag was out of his grip, he turned to face Abby. Her beautiful face was stained red from tears, fear, and exertion. He spun her around and wrapped his arm around her waist, tightly gripping her and lifting her feet off the ground.

“Noo!” she shouted and kicked. “Noooooo!” she screamed.

Suddenly, she heard Adam crying from upstairs. This caused her even greater distress.

Abby kicked and jerked her body from side to side as she screamed. Dennis struggled to maintain control of her. Despite his strength, she was putting up a good fight. Even though Abby’s house was set back from the road and was protected with the privacy of trees, bushes, and a fence, Dennis worried about her screaming drawing someone’s attention. Knowing that Ruth was on her way, he had little time to play this game with Abby.

He slapped his hand across her mouth and squeezed her midsection as he carried her sideways out the door. Her muffled screams were still apparent, although the likelihood of them being heard by the nearest neighbor was slim. Dennis nearly tripped as he walked down the three steps to the covered area where her SUV was parked. Abby’s flipping and flopping caused his own body to lose balance more than once, but he quickly regained control.

He pressed the unlock button of her key and heard the locks click. When he reached the passenger door, he placed Abby’s feet back on the ground and pulled her head back against his chest, his hand still covering her mouth.

“Shut up,” he hissed, pushing her against the back door.

He looked around to see if anyone saw them. His desperation of getting out of here led him to be a bit more forceful and gruff with her than he wanted to be. Luckily, too many barriers were in the way to be clearly seen by anyone.

“You don’t want anything to happen to Adam, right?” he whispered forcefully in her ear.

This caused her to stop moving. She quickly shook her head, eyes as big as saucers. His hot breath behind her ear made her shiver. Or, perhaps, it was his words.

“Good,” he nodded his head, his lips brushing against her skin. “Then when I let you go, you’re going to get in the car and keep your mouth shut to make sure that nothing happens to him. Right?”

Abby nodded her head immediately.

“Not a word,” he reminded her, releasing her waist first to open the front passenger door. He removed his hand from her mouth and gently nudged her arm to get her into the front seat. Abby obliged reluctantly, tears streaming down her cheeks.

Once she was seated, he reached into his pockets and pulled out the handcuffs. Keeping true to her promise to remain quiet, she didn’t say a word as she started to kick and slap at him as he reached for her hands. Dennis pursed his lips together tightly, growing increasingly frustrated with her and his dwindling time.

He pushed his elbow roughly against her chest to push her back into her seat as he fastened her hands together. He managed to get one cuff around her left wrist. He fastened the other cuff around the grab handle above the glove box, not wanting to waste any more time. Abby quickly lifted her knee into his rib cage. He stood up and grunted as he stared at her with angry eyes. She returned the glare.

He pointed his finger at her. “Not a fucking word.”

Dennis slammed the door shut and rushed back into the house to retrieve the bag of clothes. Abby looked around her for something to use as a weapon. A screw driver, a pen, anything. She found nothing. She kept nothing in her car in case of kidnapping. She tried to push the cuff off of her wrist, but it dug into her skin. It was far too tight to slip out of.

She heard the back, driver side door open and heard Dennis toss the bag onto the backseat. He slammed the door shut and opened the front door quickly, taking his seat behind the wheel. He breathed quickly, trying to catch his breath from the scuffle he and Abby just had. He rubbed his fingers over the back of his head and then started the ignition.

He leaned back in his seat for a split second and looked over at Abby. He leaned forward and opened his mouth to speak.

Abby tried to slap him with her right hand, but he leaned back out of the way and scoffed at her behavior. Abby tried to slap him again, but was unable to reach him.

Dennis reached into his pocket and pulled out the key to the handcuffs. Abby leaned back, surprised that he was letting her free so suddenly. He undid the cuff from the grip bar and hung the small chain behind the bar. He quickly grabbed her right wrist and pulled it forward, cuffing her hands so that they were trapped by the grip bar. When she realized what he was doing, she tried to pull away, but she was too weak.

He sighed and leaned back with a small smile after he accomplished this task. Abby spit at him, a glob of her saliva landing just under his eye. Dennis flinched at the sudden contact and looked at her in surprise. He wiped his face with the sleeve of his shirt.

“Unbelievable,” he angrily said as he stared forward and moved the transmission to Drive.

Abby leaned back in her seat and looked back at the house as they drove away, her thoughts and fears about Adam. Dennis reached the end of the driveway and pulled out onto the road, rapidly picking up speed. Her house disappeared from sight. The only comfort she had was recognizing Ruth’s vehicle pass them just two blocks away from the house.


	32. Hungry Like the Wolf

 

Dennis stayed off the main roads. He knew that if Ruth had called the police, he would be most likely to get caught on the interstate or the turnpike. Instead, he opted for windy side roads that travelled through forests and one-traffic-light towns. He was mindful of his speed, careful not to do anything that would draw attention to them.

He looked over at Abby. She was relentless in her attempt to break free from the constraints he had her in. Occasionally she would sit back and be still, but then within minutes she was back at clawing and twisting without success.

“Abby, you’ve been doing that for four hours,” Dennis glanced over at her before returning his sight to the twisting road in front of him. “Just sit back and relax.”

She ignored him and continued to pull at the handcuffs. The incessant clanking of the little chain against the grip bar was the only thing that filled the silence. He hated doing this to her, but he knew that she would try to run anytime the car stopped or slowed down. Following her pattern, she fussed with the handcuffs for a few minutes more and then stopped, leaning back in her seat, her arms outstretched in front of her.

Dennis kept stealing glances of her. She hadn’t said a word to him for the nearly four hours they had been on the road. He hadn’t imagined the car ride being like this.

“Are you going to do this the whole time?” Dennis asked calmly. “The silent treatment?”

Abby didn’t move or make a sound.

Dennis nodded his head. He rested his elbow along the window and leaned his head against his hand, propping it up. He rubbed the top of his head back and forth. She sure did know how to drive him crazy. She could be so stubborn; it was exasperating. He was doing this for her, for them. They were meant to be together.

After a few minutes, Abby finally spoke. “I have to pee.”

“Oh, _now_ you’re going to talk?” He lowered his hand from his head and continued to rest his elbow along the edge of the window. He looked at her without expression.

“Please,” she softened her expression. “I have to go.”

It was nearly dark. The late October sky was cloudy as the orange sun set fizzled. They hadn’t passed another vehicle for quite some time on this hardly-traveled road. There was nothing but woods and farmland for miles. Dirt roads extended here and there from the road they were on, but the dust was settled and still, untouched for hours.

He cleared his throat. He couldn’t stay angry at her for long.

“Yeah, okay,” he said, “I could go, too.”

He pulled over along the edge of the road next to a field of tall, waving, yellow grass. He turned off the ignition and removed the keys, opening his door.

“What are you doing?” Abby questioned him.

“You said you had to go,” Dennis explained with a stretch as his feet touched the uneven pavement.

Abby turned and looked out her window at the field. In the distance, she could see trees and a dark forest behind them. Dennis closed the door and walked in front of the vehicle to get to her side. When he opened the door, he reached for Abby’s wrists to free her.

“Girls don’t pee in fields,” Abby pointed out.

Dennis retracted his hands. He leaned one arm against her opened door and placed his other hand on his hip. He looked around and shrugged his shoulders.

“No one is going to see,” he assured her, “it’s just us out here. And it’s almost dark anyway.”

She just stared at him, waiting for him to change his mind. He reached for her cuffs again, satisfied that she wasn’t arguing any further.

“No,” Abby scoffed. “There could be snakes in that grass.”

Dennis stopped again and sighed, leaning his head back and looking up at the navy blue sky. He looked at her and smiled reassuringly.

“There are no snakes.”

“No, I’m not peeing in the field,” she shook her head and leaned back in her seat again.

“Abby,” Dennis was growing impatient. He sucked his lips in and bit down. He nodded his head trying to communicate to her that he understood, but at the same time, she frustrated him to no end.

“This is the only place I’m stopping,” he told her, hoping that she would be more compliant.

Abby said nothing. She stared forward through the windshield, ignoring the drilling feeling of his eyes on her.

Dennis mumbled something under his breath as he slammed her door shut. He walked to the back of the vehicle to relieve himself. Abby glanced in the side mirror to see what he was doing and quickly glanced away when she saw a stream of urine.

Dennis returned to the driver’s seat a minute later. He stared ahead momentarily, quietly going over his next steps in his head. The pressure in Abby’s bladder was building. She squeezed her legs together to try to maintain herself. Dennis started the car and fastened his seatbelt. He glanced at the dashboard and sighed.

“Next gas station, I’ll stop,” he told her. “We need gas anyway.”

Abby was thankful. Although she hated gas station bathrooms, she figured she would hate dropping her pants in the great wide open and peeing in a field even more. Who knows what Dennis or the Beast would do once her pants were down.

Lucky enough for her, there was a gas station exactly seven minutes and thirty-two seconds down the road from where Dennis had just stopped. Abby sighed a breath of relief as she saw the lights in the distance and recognized the building as a typical little gas station and convenience stop. Her legs bounced uncontrollably as she felt her bladder about to burst.

Dennis pulled into the far end of the gas station next to one of the pumps. The gas tank was on Abby’s side, and he knew he would have to be careful to remove the handcuffs without anyone inside seeing. Dennis unbuckled his seatbelt and leaned to the side to retrieve the key from his pocket. He glanced out the back window at the building, scanning to see if anyone was watching. He saw no one. Then again, the dirt and crud that crusted the window panes blocked an effective view.

“When we go inside,” he started while unlocking each cuff, “you don’t talk to anyone, you don’t look at anyone. Understand?” He put the handcuffs in his pocket.

“Yes,” Abby said, putting her hand on the handle to open the door.

“Hey,” Dennis said, grabbing her arm and stopping her.

Abby stopped and looked at him.

“Don’t do anything stupid. Got it?”

“Yes,” Abby said with a bit of an attitude.

Dennis nodded his head and got out of the vehicle. Abby did the same. She started to walk towards the glass door of the gas station, hoping that the attendant would allow her to use the bathroom. She crossed her arms in front of her chest tightly, attempting to protect herself from the cold night air. Dennis was close on her heels, observing his surroundings for anyone who might see them and report them to the police.

A little bell jingled on the metal bar of the dirty glass door as Abby pulled it open, alerting the worker that someone had just entered. She saw no one behind the cash register. No other cars had been parked out front either, except for an old, ratty Volkswagen caked in dust and rust. It most likely belonged to the person working here this evening. A classic rock station played lowly behind the counter from an old, beat up boom-box that looked like it was from the eighties.

Abby saw a small, dimly lit hallway towards the back of the little shop. She assumed the bathroom would be back there. As she approached the hallway, a young man, probably late teens, came out of one of the rooms from that hallway. He smiled a warped smile at her and looked her up and down.

He was a rather unattractive young man. Tall and chubby, greasy curly hair, oil stains on his tattered blue jeans and gray hoodie. His teeth were crooked, and by the look he was giving her, so were his thoughts.

“Can I help you?” he grinned.

Abby pointed at the bathroom, trying to avoid looking at him.

He didn’t bother to move over to allow her room as she squeezed past him in the narrow hallway. He watched her go into the bathroom, admiring the curve of her buttocks in those tight jeans, and then turned around to continue walking to the front of the store. He stopped when he saw Dennis glaring at him with a scowl. Dennis did nothing to hide his disgust for the boy. It angered him that other people looked at Abby and wanted her in the same way he looked at her and wanted her.

The boy smiled, embarrassed. “Hey, man,” he greeted Dennis.

When Dennis said nothing in return, he turned and walked behind the counter and stood at the cash register. Dennis pulled out his wallet and laid down a twenty dollar bill for gasoline.

 

 

Abby pulled up her pants and kicked the handle of the toilet with her foot, not wanting to touch more than she had to in this dungy place. She looked at herself in the mirror as she approached. She sighed and stared at the bags under her eyes. She was tired. She was worried about Adam. She was worried about Frank. _What will he think? Will he think I left him? Will he think I left both of them?_

Abby turned the knobs of the hot and cold taps. She pumped a few squirts of a plain, milky white, liquid hand soap into her dry palm. As she lathered the soap vigorously in her hands, she noticed a few drops splatter onto the glass and leave a scummy residue. She stopped and looked down at her hands. An idea came to her.

She looked up at the mirror and dragged a soapy finger at the top of the mirror. She was pleasantly surprised to see that it left a legible trace. Abby worked quickly to write a message on the mirror so that someone could see it and call the police. When she was finished, she rinsed her hands and shook them dry, wiping the rest of the water on her pants. She stepped back and looked at her work. _ABBY 911 KEVIN CRUMB. HELP._

Abby narrowly opened the bathroom door and stepped into the hallway, closing the door behind her. Dennis met her immediately as she exited. She gasped lightly, startled to see him so suddenly and worried that he would go into the bathroom and see what she had done.

“Let’s go,” Dennis said lowly as he grabbed her elbow and guided her past the clerk to the door.

“The bathroom is out of toilet paper,” she lied in a loud voice, hopeful to get the clerk’s attention to check the bathroom soon.

Abby pushed open the door and walked outside as Dennis heard the clerk say, “Damn.” He stopped and his ears perked up. He slowly turned his head and narrowed his eyes at the boy. The clerk quickly looked away, sensing that he was no match. Dennis grunted and forcefully pushed the door open, following Abby to the car.

Abby sat in her seat, and Dennis caught the door before he could close it. He pulled the handcuffs from his pocket and attached one end to her left wrist and the other end to the grip bar on the dashboard. She could sense something was wrong.

A massive vein in his forehead was emerging. His neck throbbed and his breathing became deep and raspy. Abby was fairly certain that this was the Beast. She only stared, too frightened of him to speak. Once he had her secured, he looked at her with bloodshot eyes.

“I’ll be back,” he grunted, closing the door.

He removed the nozzle from the pump and inserted it into the gas tank, flipping the lever so that he could walk away while the car was being filled. He walked back inside the gritty little store. “Hungry Like the Wolf” by Duran Duran played on the clerk’s boom-box. He couldn’t help but smirk at the irony and the look of fear on the kid’s face as he pulled the door closed behind him and twisted the lock.

Abby sat in her seat and waited for Dennis to return. The lever of the gas nozzle clicked to the off position, getting her attention. She turned and stretched her neck to see what he was doing, but the dirt and grime on the windows prevented her from being able to see anything inside. She faced forward again and sighed, tugging at the chain of the handcuffs, more for something to do rather than to try to escape. It was useless, anyway.

A car raced past the gas station. It was the first she had seen in almost an hour. She was disappointed that it kept driving, further and further away from her. It disappeared from her sight before the sound of it dissipated. If only she could get someone’s attention.

Dennis stood and straightened his shirt. He grabbed a plastic bag from behind the counter and decided to stock up on a few things for Abby. He quickly walked up and down the three aisles, grabbing some travel sized hygiene items, a few snacks, and two bottles of water from the refrigerated section. As he made his way up the last aisle, he spotted a little row of machines filled with gumballs, fake gemmed rings, and bouncy balls.

Hedwig became excited and eagerly reached into his pocket, pulling out a quarter and inserting it into the machine filled with rings. He giggled as he turned the handle and peeked out the window to make sure Abby couldn’t see what he was doing. He retrieved the little plastic bulb that fell into the tray and removed the cap, retrieving the red, heart shaped ring. He looked at it and smiled.

Holding onto the bag of groceries in one hand and the ring in the other, he pushed at the door but it didn’t open. Confused, he looked at the lock and twisted it until he heard it click. He ran outside to the driver’s side door and swung it open, hopping up into the seat and placing the bag in his lap.

“Abby, will you marry me?” Hedwig gleamed and giggled, turning to her and holding out the small ring in front of her face.

Abby looked over at him and paused in horror. His mouth had a ring of blood around it and a few specks of thick, dark clots. She closed her mouth to try and retain her lunch. But, she could feel it creeping up her esophagus. Her face went white.

“What?” Hedwig asked, with an uncomfortable smile.

Seeing his blood-stained teeth was too much. Abby covered her mouth but then quickly swung her hand to the door handle blindly and flung it open. She leaned over to the side and vomited. When she had nothing left to regurgitate, she dry-heaved, sickened at the mere thought of his face and what he had just done.


	33. Abby and the Beast

 

Dennis was outside the vehicle, splashing water from his bottle into his hand and then rubbing it on his face to cleanse himself of the blood. He took a sip of water, swished, and then spit. Abby closed her door and leaned back against her seat, closing her eyes and holding her forehead in her hand. She felt utterly disgusted. Her head felt heavy and her stomach continued to churn, but there was nothing left.

He got back in the vehicle and rummaged through the plastic bag, retrieving the other bottle of water and holding it out for Abby. She looked at the bottle and then looked at him. His face was wet, but thankfully void of the bloody mess that had caused her to become squeamish. Abby accepted the bottle and immediately opened it. She took a swig and opened her door to spit after she had rinsed her mouth. Her mouth tasted acidic and metallic. She wanted to replace the taste, but her appetite was non-existent, and she feared that opening her mouth for any reason would only result in further sickness.

As they drove away from the gas station, Abby’s mind wandered. How many other people would die because of him? She couldn’t imagine being told the news that her child had been murdered and eaten. She kept thinking of that boy. He didn’t deserve to die. If she had just gone in the field, if she hadn’t asked to stop somewhere to use the bathroom, he would still be alive.

Immense guilt swept over her body. Abby started to cry, trying to stay as silent as possible to avoid causing further upset. She turned her head towards her window and covered her mouth with a shaking hand. She closed her eyes tightly to try to block the tears. She sobbed into her hand until she needed to take a breath. When she breathed in, it was louder than she had meant it to be, and it drew Dennis’s attention.

Despite the darkness, Dennis could see her distress. He wasn’t very good at dealing with emotions. He never was. He didn’t know how to comfort her because it seemed like every time he tried, it backfired. He could not understand why she was so upset over the sacrifice of an impure waste of space. She didn’t know him. She hadn’t known any of them. And yet, he saw more emotion and compassion from her for these impure monstrosities than what she had shown him in their own reunion.

“This is almost beginning to feel like a real relationship,” Patricia sighed out loud.

Abby sniffled and then looked at the driver. There she sat, calmly relaxed, both hands on the steering wheel in the ten-and-two position, shoulders back, neck elongated.

“You’re angry, you ignore him, he wants to make it better but doesn’t know how, you cry, he feels guilty,” Patricia said as she looked ahead at the double yellow lines. She turned her head and smirked at Abby as if she knew a secret. “Feels like a marriage, doesn’t it?”

Abby scowled at Patricia but then looked forward, not wanting to say anything to her. She disliked Patricia the most. She always did. Patricia had brainwashed Dennis into the monster he had become.

“Do try to give him a break, dear,” Patricia soothingly said.

“A break?” Abby scoffed. “Like you guys gave those girls a break? That kid back there?” she pointed behind her with her thumb.

“In time you will understand,” Patricia assured her with a sympathetic smile.

“And, you know,” Abby changed the subject. “What’s your deal?” Patricia glanced back and forth between her and the road. “All that talk about babies and then you’re all of a sudden okay with leaving mine behind?”

Patricia hummed lightly. “Trust me, it was a difficult decision. But, it was the right one.”

“Why was it the right one?”

“Dennis could never be a father,” Patricia said matter-of-factly. “The Beast will have his offspring. He still has chosen you. Another’s child would be a distraction.”

“Not this again,” Abby sighed and held her head.

“He loves you, you know,” Patricia revealed.

Abby scoffed again. “The _Beast?”_ Was such a creature capable of loving anything?

Patricia shook her head and glanced at her. “Dennis.”

Abby’s face became solemn. She stared at Patricia as she drove and could see Dennis there. His chiseled face was quite handsome. Once upon a time she had loved him, but she couldn’t bring herself to have those same feelings for him now. He had given her a son, and for that she would forever be grateful, because he was a fantastic little boy and a true blessing in her life.

But, aside from him sharing the same DNA as Adam, there was no other connection there. They had nothing in common anymore. He was a killer. A handsome, cunning killer. His unpredictability and inability to see that was unsettling. To her, it felt like an abusive relationship, where one thinks they can change the other, and then they end up at the bottom of a lake or cut up into tiny pieces and stuffed inside a barrel.

Abby didn’t want to talk anymore. She had nothing to say. She wasn’t interested in anything Patricia had to say, either. She looked out her window, starting to feel tired and dizzy as she stared at the tree line whizzing past them. She didn’t know how long they had been driving, but it felt like forever.

Sitting in silence made it easy to hear the change in breathing patterns coming from the driver’s seat. That creepy, harsh, animal-like puffing. She could feel his eyes on the back of her head. She pretended not to hear it, apprehensive of looking at him for fear of what he would do. Maybe she should pretend to be sleeping. His breathing was uneven, and she heard a rough groan come croaking from his throat.

She swallowed and slowly turned her head to see what was happening. She had nearly stopped breathing so she could listen better. Survival instincts. With nothing but the reflection of the headlights from the road and the moonlight shining down, the angles of his face appeared harshly sharper. She didn’t know how long he had been staring at her, but he never broke eye contact to look at the road once when she faced him.

He smiled a sideways grin, the corner of his lip curling upward to reveal his glistening teeth. She looked down at the movement she saw below and noticed him rubbing his hand over a bulge in his pants. Her heart raced at the sight, remembering that he had stared at her the same way back at her house before he forced her into the bedroom.

“Jesus Christ,” Abby muttered reflexively without taking a moment to collect her thoughts. She looked away, embarrassed and scared.

A low chuckle escaped from his throat. It sounded like he was enjoying himself and the reaction he got from her. He licked his lips and then bit his bottom lip before grinning again at her. He glanced at the road before resuming.

“Do you remember the last time, Abby?” he croaked.

She watched his face, not daring to look any lower. However, she could still tell from his motions and the expression on his face that he had not yet stopped.

“You wore that tight, little, black dress,” he continued. “I had you up against the wall.”

Abby felt vastly uncomfortable. She squeezed her legs together instinctively to protect herself, crossing her ankles for good measure. Her heart pounded and her face felt flushed.

“You couldn’t resist me then,” he smirked, looking at her body up and down.

“I had thought you were Dennis,” she spoke softly.

He chuckled again. “Dennis might be good, but he’s not as good as me.”

Abby swallowed hard and stared straight ahead. In the distance, she saw lightning illuminate the darkened sky. A few seconds later, thunder broke the uncomfortable exchange between them.

“What do you say I pull over,” he suggested, turning onto a narrow side road full of bumps and dips, “and we reenact that night. Hmm?”

Abby’s head jerked suddenly to look at him, fear plastered across her face. “No,” she immediately refused. She hated showing him her fear. She wanted to appear tougher, to seem unfazed by him. Showing him fear would only strengthen his power over her.

“You’d only be delaying the inevitable,” he smirked at her. “No need to pretend to be shy,” the Beast chuckled. “I’ve seen it all before.”

Abby looked away and shook her head. When she looked back at him, she noticed that he had stopped rubbing himself, and his hand was merely resting on his leg as he steered with his other hand. She looked ahead for a clue as to where they were going. This narrow lane was dark and secluded. She wondered what he was going to do, isolating them further from the main road.

“What are your plans?” Abby asked him, watching his face to carefully gauge his reaction to her line of questioning. “It’s only a matter of time before you get caught. You leave a trail of bodies everywhere you go. That’s going to attract attention, and the police will always know it’s you.”

He laughed a deep, evil-sounding cackle. It sent shivers down Abby’s spine. He was crazy.

“It’s going to get to the point where they are going to be told ‘shoot to kill.’ They aren’t going to want to hear your side. Not with all the destruction that you’ve inflicted. They’ll consider you too dangerous to try to reason with.”

Abby’s tone of voice remained calm and non-accusatory. Her eyebrows raised in concern. She despised Patricia, hated the Beast... had some compassion for Dennis, and felt sorry for Hedwig… the other 20 identities seemed to be innocent, but she had no way of knowing. They were suppressed. She could only assume it was because they disagreed with their ideologies. She couldn’t imagine being trapped in a body and watching herself unleash hell, unable to stop herself.

 _“The Lord supports the afflicted, and he brings down the wicked to the ground,”_ the Beast responded. Abby stared at him, confused by his response and how she was to react to it. He looked at her with a serious expression. “I am a _god,_ ” he growled, “and no human is a match for me.”

Abby shook her head in disbelief. “My bet is your blood is just as red as any other man’s.” She looked straight ahead. “I’ll only be too happy to see it spilled.”

The Beast snorted. “You’re feisty. I like that,” he nodded his head as he watched the winding road ahead. “Our progeny will rule the earth.”

“They’re going to come for me,” Abby didn’t offer any acknowledgement of what he had just said. “Frank will find me.” The Beast scoffed. “And he’s going to kill you.”

Just then, he slammed on the brakes, sending Abby flying forward with the seatbelt cutting into her waist and chest. Dust flew in front of the headlights in a powdery cloud.

“Well, then, I guess I better have my fun while I still can,” the Beast grinned at her.

He opened his door and stepped out, closing the door behind him. He walked at a normal pace in front of the vehicle to get to Abby’s side. Abby panicked, and noticed that he had left the keys in the ignition. She quickly pressed the button to lock the door just in time. He pulled on the handle, but the door did not budge. Abby’s heart raced as their eyes met.

“Open the door,” he calmly told her.

There was no way Abby could move into the driver’s seat to take off and leave him here. Her handcuffs kept her in place. She would never be able to reach the pedals and be able to drive in her position.

“Open the door, Abby,” he said in a sing-song voice.

She pushed herself as far away from the door as she could.

He started to slam the sides of his fists against the window and edge of the door, no longer patient with her. “Open the fucking door!” he shouted against the glass, his breath fogging up a small section of her window.

Without further warning, he punched through the glass. Abby screamed and covered her face with her free hand as small pieces of glass went flying through the inside of the car. She felt them hit her bare arm and bounce off of her body. Her eyes were closed for protection. She never saw him reach inside to unlock the door and open it. He grabbed her legs and pulled her from the vehicle, catching her so her feet were the only part of her that hit the ground.

Abby’s left arm was stretched behind her. She felt helpless in this position. He could do whatever he wanted to, and she would have no choice but to just let it happen. He was able to overpower her without the use of handcuffs. This left her at a huge disadvantage.

Abby’s back arched backwards so that her head was resting on the seat. He loomed over her and took her neck in both of his hands. She instinctively gripped one of his wrists with her free hand, but he didn’t seem to mind.

“Look at me,” he commanded her, shaking her lightly within his hands.

She opened her eyes and stared into his. They were a beast’s eyes. Dark and malevolent and bloodshot. Although he believed his intentions to be pure and right, his reality was skewed.

“The unscathed have no place in this world,” the Beast growled in her face. “I chose you for a reason. We belong together, and nothing and no one will stop that from being true.”

Abby listened and did not fight him.

“More will die, because they deserve to die,” he informed her. “And when they come for you, they will die, too, because anyone who tries to prevent us from fulfilling our purpose is impure of heart and soul.”

“You can’t just kill anyone you deem unworthy,” Abby cried. “You’re not God.”

“I’m the judge, jury, and executioner,” he snarled. “If I have to kill every last person on this earth, I will. Nothing is going to stand in my way.” He leaned in closer so that his lips were nearly touching hers. “Are you going to try to stand in my way, Abby?” She gulped and just stared at him, unsure of what she was supposed to say. “Was I wrong about you?” he breathed onto her lips.

“If you were wrong about me,” Abby trembled, “what else could you be wrong about?”

He stared down at her lips and let out a short snicker. “Patricia tells me I need to watch out for you.”

Another reason why Abby hated Patricia: she is smart. She causes trouble. It would be difficult for Abby to develop a plan to escape with Patricia always being two steps ahead of her. Patricia didn’t always say much, but she often observed and learned a great deal.

“She thinks that because you’re Dennis’s downfall, that you’ll be mine, too,” he nuzzled his nose against hers.

“I thought you said you’re better than Dennis,” Abby said innocently.

The Beast chuckled and playfully patted the side of her neck. “Good girl.”

Rain started to sprinkle down on them as the thunder grew more frequent. The Beast stood up and allowed Abby to stand unassisted. She breathed rapidly, trying to calm her rapidly thumping heart. The Beast narrowed his eyes and looked at the wooden sign and gate across the road from him. _Camp Milton._ There was a rickety metal gate blocking what appeared to be a dirt and gravel driveway to a piece of property within the woods. The link chain that connected the gate to a solid wooden post told the Beast that the property was currently unoccupied.

“We’ll stay here tonight,” he said as he walked away from her to inspect the gate. “Besides, wouldn’t you rather procreate in a bed than in a car?” he turned and smiled at her.

Abby looked back at her seat, covered in thousands of pieces of broken glass. She hoped that someone had already walked into that convenience store and called the police. They were hardly two hours away from there. She needed someone to find her before it was too late.


	34. Hot on the Trail

 

*Earlier that day – Frank and Abby’s house*

 

Frank paced the length of the couch as one of the uniformed officers sat on it and jotted down some information. Frank nervously chewed on his thumb nail, unable to keep still as he thought about what could have happened to Abby. He was still in his own uniform. His outer shirt was partially unbuttoned, a nervous sweat soaking through the white undershirt beneath it.

Ruth sat in a chair in the corner of the living room, holding onto Adam, who was fidgeting on her lap with a toy. Frank’s father was talking to another officer in the kitchen. Another policeman was upstairs, searching for evidence— which he didn’t even know what he was looking for.

“Sir, have you and Ms. Altmire been having problems lately?” the officer asked callously.

“Problems?” Frank looked at him, continuing to wear a path on the red and gold accent rug.

“Problems,” he repeated. “Disagreements with finances, marital issues…”

“No,” Frank defensively and immediately answered. “Nothing like that. We just became engaged last month.”

“Sometimes people get cold feet,” the officer suggested.

“This isn’t what this is!” Frank yelled and pointed at him.

“Frank,” Ruth tried to calm him from across the room.

“Someone took her,” Frank spoke with a raised voice. “Something has happened to her, and the longer you sit here asking me ridiculous questions, the less time we have to find her.”

“What makes you so certain that someone took her?” the officer sighed. “Nothing is out of place. No sign of a struggle. No sign of forced entry.”

Frank rubbed the back of his neck roughly. “She left her phone here,” Frank started to point out a suspicious detail.

“Maybe she didn’t want to be able to be contacted,” the officer countered.

“She left the baby alone without anyone being here,” Frank stated.

“I’ve seen worse done by young mothers,” the officer again played the devil’s advocate. “It’s not unheard of for mothers to leave their children.”

Frank stopped pacing and glared at the officer. They were about the same age. This officer was maybe a few years younger. He was definitely cocky and full of himself. Frank had to take a breath to remind himself that his son was in the room and he didn’t want to subject him to the sight of his father strangling another man to death.

“Abby would never do that,” Frank said calmly. “She loves Adam.”

“Officer,” Ruth sighed, “I already told you. When I arrived at the house, I passed Abby’s vehicle. She was with a man.”

“What did this man look like, ma’am?” the officer looked at Ruth.

Ruth shrugged her shoulders. “I don’t know. We passed each other for but a fraction of a second. But I recognized Abby’s vehicle, and I saw a man driving it with her in the passenger seat.”

“Did Ms. Altmire appear to be in distress at the time?”

Frank angrily responded. “She already told you she saw them for a fraction of a second.”

The officer stared at Frank and then looked back at Ruth. “Ma’am?” he encouraged her to respond, disregarding Frank’s comment.

“I don’t know,” Ruth said. “I couldn’t exactly see facial expressions.”

The officer returned his stare to Frank. “You sure there were no problems between you two? She left with another man.”

Frank had had enough of this pompous, arrogant policeman. He quickly walked in his direction but was stopped by his father, who arrived at his side and placed his hand on his chest. This was enough for Frank to stop in his tracks. He balled his hands into fists and squeezed as tightly as he could, imagining the man’s neck was in his palms.

The doorbell rang. Ruth had signaled that she would answer the door. She placed Adam in his pack-and-play along with his toy. Adam sat and played, completely oblivious to the magnitude of the situation.

Frank’s father rubbed his palm against his chest. “We’ll get her back,” he said with low volume. “We’ll find her.”

“Dad,” Frank rubbed his eyes with his thumb and forefinger.

“Mr. Salvatore?” a male’s voice called from behind him.

Frank and his father turned around to see the man who had just spoken. Two men walked in from the front door area, Ruth directly behind them. The man who had spoken was of average height and weight, dressed in black slacks, a white button down shirt, black tie, and black jacket. He flashed a badge to introduce himself.

“Agent Pickford,” he stated his name and then nodded beside him, “this is Agent Dawson.”

Frank’s eyes widened with trepidation. “FBI?”

“Sir, may we speak with you in private?” Agent Pickford asked.

Frank’s mind wandered. Was he about to be told that Abby was dead? Why else would they want to speak with him privately? Frank nodded his head and extended his arm to direct them into the kitchen. He led the way with the two agents following behind him quietly. Ruth retrieved Adam again and sat beside the officer on the couch, continuing to answer his repetitive questions and telling Francis to keep an eye on Frank, in case he was delivered news that would undo him.

Once inside the kitchen, Frank turned around, unable to sit for whatever news they were about to tell him.

“Is Abby hurt?” he asked.

“Mr. Salvatore,” Agent Pickford took the lead. “We have reason to believe that Ms. Altmire is with a wanted individual.”

“What?” Frank had heard him, but was shocked at the news nonetheless.

“We have reason to believe she is across state lines with said individual. This was discovered at a gas station in Virginia an hour ago.”

Agent Pickford held his hand out to Agent Dawson, who promptly handed him a manila folder. The man retrieved an enlarged photograph from the file and held it up for Frank to see. It was a photograph of what appeared to be a dingy bathroom mirror with _ABBY 911 KEVIN CRUMB. HELP._

Frank took the photo in his own hands and examined the words written on the mirror. The name was recognizable now. Kevin Crumb. That guy who had kidnapped those three girls and killed them. The guy who was on the run from the Philadelphia Zoo, where the murders had taken place. The guy that Abby had seemed so concerned about. The man that was presumed to be dead after enduring two point-blank shotgun wounds.

“This guy,” Frank spoke, “Kevin Crumb. He’s wanted in Philadelphia for murder.”

Agent Pickford nodded his head. “He’s wanted for questioning in Virginia, too. A young male was found murdered at the gas station where this photograph was taken.”

Frank’s legs felt weak. He had to sit. He slid his body into the nearest chair at the table.

“She was worried this morning,” Frank recalled. “Yesterday when the news broke about this guy, she was shaken. This morning when she saw his picture on the front page of the paper, she had this look in her eyes. This…fear.”

Frank was kicking himself for telling her not to be afraid, for not digging deeper as to where this fear was coming from. He felt responsible. If he had stayed home, she would be safe. He should have known by the look on her face. Tears began to fill his vision.

“What is Ms. Altmire’s connection to Kevin Crumb?” the agent asked.

“I,” Frank shook his head. “There is none. She’s never mentioned him.”

“There seems to be some sort of connection. Think, Mr. Salvatore,” Agent Pickford encouraged him calmly.

“I,” Frank started again, but paused. He couldn’t think of any connection.

“Da-da,” Adam squealed from the other room.

Frank turned his head to look at Adam. He half-smiled at him. His innocence was endearing. He looked like Abby, and in a way, it was both comforting and heartbreaking for Frank in this moment.

“Da-da, da-da, da-da,” Adam repeated with a smile as he looked in Frank’s direction and flapped his arms happily.

Frank’s smile slowly faded. Da-da. _Da-da._ Abby had become pregnant sometime during the month that she had been kidnapped. She claimed that she had never seen any of their faces. Frank looked at the newspaper that was still sitting on the tabletop. He reached for it and turned it around so that he was looking at it right-side up. The description that Abby had provided about her captor’s living arrangements were nearly identical to the description in the papers regarding this latest kidnapping.

Frank examined the photo of the man’s face. He then looked at Adam and swallowed a lump in his throat.


	35. The Escape

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hello, all! So sorry it has taken me a year to update this story. I have been extremely busy, but I hope to be able to update this some more.

Dennis drove slowly up the narrow dirt lane. Abby sat at the edge of her seat. Glass crunched beneath her as she shifted uncomfortably, her wrist still bound by the handcuffs to the grab bar above the glovebox. Her heart raced at the thought of what would happen next. The Beast had ripped that chain apart at the front gate with such ease that it reminded Abby just how weak she really was. The desires that he had verbalized to her made her stomach churn. There was no way she could stop him. With as easily as he took the light from the others, she doubted that there was much Dennis or anyone could do to stop him, for that matter.

Shadows of tall trees danced before them in the illumination of the headlights. Abby peered into the wooded area beside her. She saw nothing but the forest. No paths, no porch lights in the distance, no other sign of human life anywhere. She shivered as a cool breeze kissed her bare arms through the window that was no longer there.

Up ahead, an outline of a small, log cabin came into sight. It appeared dark and dreary. The rain-soaked wood glistened in the light as they approached. Green moss grew up the sides of the foundation and on the wet, stone chimney at the side of the building. The property was mostly surrounded by woods, with a small, grassy area opening up directly in front of the cabin. By the looks of it, the cabin had not been occupied for some time. The grass looked tall— maybe knee-height— and one of the shutters on the window hung loosely from the bottom hinge.

Dennis brought the vehicle to a slow stop and shifted it into the “park” position. He turned off the ignition and the lights. The moon was barely visible through the trees and passing clouds above. What little light it did provide was just enough for Abby to make out what was directly in front of her.

They sat quietly for a moment. Dennis stared straight ahead, his hands still on the wheel. Abby did her best not to look at him, fearful of which person she would see. She was frightened about what he was going to do. Dennis reached into the pocket of his pants and pulled out his usual kerchief. He dabbed the sweat from his brow, a usual occurrence when the Beast had taken over. He folded the kerchief over and returned it to his pocket, again looking forward for a few seconds more before placing his hand on the door.

As Dennis opened his door, he shortly ordered, “Wait here,” as if she could have left freely if she wanted to. Dennis slid off of his seat and closed the door lightly, careful to make as little sound as possible.

Abby could hear the crunching of leaves and the sloshing of mud as he walked towards the cabin. She immediately looked down at the cuffs and quietly tried again to pull her wrist from its constraints, glancing up every so often to see where Dennis was. The light sprinkling of rain began to come down heavier, covering the windshield and blurring her view of the outside. She held her breath as she pushed at the metal ring, trying to use all of her strength to slip herself out of it. When she failed, she released her breath in a discontented sigh and slouched in defeat. It was pure luck that she happened to look down at the driver’s seat and gain a feeling of hope. She quickly glanced ahead again, unable to see anything due to the quickening rain.

Dennis cupped his hand against the window of the cabin and squinted his eyes as he attempted to inspect the inside of the cabin. It was too dark to see anything, really. The rain beating down against the glass mixed with the layer of dirt, inhibiting his ability to see. But, this would have to do for tonight. He was tired, drained from the excitement of the day, and he needed a place where he could think of his next steps.

He stepped away from the window and looked at the side of his hand. He frowned at the brown smudge of dirt that stuck to his hand. The back of his shirt clung to his body. The rain was picking up pace, and the loudening sound of raindrops drumming against the crisp autumn leaves told him that he needed to get them inside now. He turned about-face and began making his way back to the car. He looked up and froze when he saw Abby’s passenger door wide open. He knew that he had not opened her door, that he had told her to wait there.

The rain was too thick to see inside the car. He jogged to the vehicle, knowing that there was no way she could have gotten out of the handcuffs. When he arrived at her door, he gripped the doorframe and swung his body around to the other side. He lost his breath when he saw that the only occupant of the passenger seat was the thousands of pieces of tiny glass fragments from the window that had been busted in only minutes prior. His eyes hastily darted to the grip bar where one end of the handcuffs was still intact, and the other end was opened and still swinging lightly against the dash. _The key_. He saw the key still stuck in the end that had been attached to Abby’s wrist. _It must have fallen out of my pocket when I grabbed my kerchief._

He felt a million things at once. Fear of losing Abby. Betrayal that she had sneakily left him. Sadness that she obviously didn’t want to be with him. Anger that she had, yet again, disobeyed him. His breathing was starting to become uneven. Breaths were becoming shorter and shorter, and the vein in his neck throbbed as he clenched his fist and tightened his grip on the doorframe. He gritted his teeth together and tightened his lips, trying to remain in control of himself.

He slammed the door, clenched his eyes tightly shut, and screamed, “ABBY!”

Abby gasped at hearing him shout behind her in the distance but didn’t let it impact her speed. She turned her head briefly at the sound of his angry voice, just to ensure that he wasn’t close to catching up to her. It sounded like she had a bit of a lead on him. She continued running through the woods, knowing that he would be able to catch her too easily if she had retraced their path down the narrow lane and onto the road. At least in the forest there were rocks, trees, bushes to hide behind. She hoped, with this being a heavily wooded area, that other camps would be nearby to _Camp Milton_ , and that someone would be in those camps…someone who could shelter her and help her and call 911 for her.

  
The ground was slick and soggy, the product from an off-and-on-all-day rain that must have occurred in this area. She slipped and skidded a few times but never lost her footing. The chill that she felt in the car was now gone, replaced with an intense heat as her blood pumped ferociously through her body. She hardly noticed the sting of tiny lacerations on her arms, neck, and cheeks from tiny, jagged twigs that beat against her as she ran.

“ABBY!” she heard him roar again, only now it was closer and angrier.

She gasped and raised her eyebrows, not daring to turn around and look this time for fear of seeing him on her tail. She forced her legs to move faster, her quadriceps burning with every extended sprint she took.

Her foot landed on a sheet of wet leaves, causing her to slide forward in a split-like motion. Abby cried out in pain as she felt her thigh adductors overstretch. Her knee hit the ground behind her, and she rolled onto her side, grabbing and rubbing at her thigh to make the pain ease up. Her butt and legs immediately felt wet.

  
Quickly approaching her direction, she heard the sound of snapping twigs. She tried to stand to resume running, but her leg deceived her and she hit the ground again with her knee. Twice more she tried to stand before she saw something out of the corner of her eye dart past her and then suddenly still.

Recognizing her kidnapper, she quickly crab-crawled backwards a few paces to get out of sight. She crawled behind a tree and sat, leaning her back and head against the scratchy bark of a thick oak tree. Now facing the direction from which she came and desperately trying to disappear, she pushed herself hard against the tree and held her breath. She was certain that the thunderous pounding of her beating heart would give away her location.

She waited. She listened. The only sounds she could hear were the rhythmic drops of rain against the forest floor and trees above. She closed her eyes tightly and prayed to whoever would listen. _This is it_ , she thought. _I’m going to die here_. She waited for what felt like an eternity, trying to emotionally prepare herself for death. No one came.

  
Wondering if, perhaps, he had continued his trek forward and bypassed her altogether, she worked to convince herself to turn around and look. She needed to keep moving. She needed to get to someplace safe. _This was stupid. You’re so stupid. Of course, he has the upper hand._

Abby forced herself to swallow. Saliva, fear. She slowly drew in a breath, careful to avoid making too loud of a noise with a sudden inhale. Her fingernails dug into the dirt on either side of her body, needing to release tension somewhere. No matter how much she tried to calm herself, her heart continued to rapidly thump against her chest. She felt her pulse in her chest, her neck, her ears, her fingertips.

She parted her lips slightly and gently exhaled when she realized that she had been holding her breath again. She opened her eyes and slowly resumed breathing. Placing most of her weight on her left hand, she gradually leaned to her left to glance behind the tree at her surroundings. Her eyes skimmed the trees. She saw nothing. But, she knew how when pressured to find something that is right in front of you, you tend to look past the obvious. Fearful that this was the case, she scanned the area again… over and over… still, she saw nothing but trees. _Maybe he is already far ahead._

She decided to switch directions. Instead of running in the direction that she had been running, she now decided to head east. She pushed herself off the ground and hobbled along for several strides before feeling able to quicken her steps. Every so often, she stopped behind a thick tree for rest and to shield herself from view.

  
Ahead, she saw a light. As she approached, there appeared to be the tree line… an opening... a house… a porch light. _Oh my God,_ she thought to herself, a glimmer of hope filling her body with a sudden burst of energy. She forced her legs to move, only slightly limping at this point. She was picking up speed again, a smile spreading across her face as she felt a sense of relief. She was so close. Not only was it a house, it was a house with a porch light on. Someone _has_ to be there.

“Abby,” she heard behind her. Directly behind her. Not a shout or a scream or a reprimanding tone. Just a husky sounding, “Abby.” No crackling leaves, no heavy breathing. Just his voice.

That glimmer of hope was sucked out of her soul as her breath hitched inside of her throat and got stuck. He had approached so stealthily, so silently. This was it.  
“HELP!” she screamed as she continued to run, not bothering to turn around, not wanting to know the exact second that she would meet her demise. “HELP!” she screamed again, her lungs aching the way they did on that Christmas night in the pond so many years ago. “HELP ME!”

“Abby,” she heard his voice growl, almost as if it were directly in her ear, his hot breath on her neck.

Abby shivered and scrunched her shoulders up instinctively to try to cover her neck. Despite the light in the distance giving some illumination to the woods, the blood rushing to her head in combination with the heavy rainfall made her vision hazy. She hadn’t seen the fallen branch on the ground before she caught her ankle on it, heaving herself to the ground with great force.

She hit her temple on a rock that was partway in the ground. Her chest hit the ground and knocked the wind out of her. She coughed and groaned in the same breath as she pushed herself to roll over onto her back. Her vision doubled and spun everything around her in circles. The last thing she saw before pitch blackness was Him standing over her with a disapproving look upon his chiseled face.


	36. Beginning of the End

 

The faint sound of trickling water being wrung from a cloth slowly roused Abby from her blackout. She felt a lukewarm, soft fabric being lightly dragged across her forehead and down the side of her temple, leaving a cold trail of dampness behind as it moved to the next part of her body. A light groan escaped her throat as she tried to force herself to flutter her eyes open but couldn’t.

The gentle pressure recurred over her forehead and temple, with repetitious strokes at the side of her neck and arm. Abby felt her hair matted to the side of her neck and cheek. It itched slightly, but her body felt too heavy to do anything about it. She shivered, uncertain as to why she was so cold. Despite the unawareness of her surroundings, she felt serene. The tender caresses across her face, neck, and top of her chest felt like Frank. How he would rub her temples when she had a migraine; how he would massage her scalp because he knew it helped her fall asleep; how he would wrap his arm around her from behind and place his hand against her heart as he kissed the nape of her neck, his stubble tickling her ever so slightly.

Her eyes finally gained the strength to flutter open. The figure standing over her was blurry at first— a mere outline of a person. As Abby’s eyes worked to refocus, the outline continued to wipe at her neck. The room was dimly lit by a fire in the wood-burning fireplace. It crackled and snapped in the background as the flames swayed back and forth, sending patterns of light and dark across the person in front of her. The fuzzy vision became more solid as Abby blinked over and over again. Patricia’s smug smirk came into view as soon as they made eye contact.

“You hit your head rather hard, you clumsy thing,” Patricia hummed.

Abby inhaled an anxious breath through her nose while trying to push herself up into a sitting position. She wasn’t sure where she was going, but she knew she needed to get herself into a less vulnerable position.

“Ah-ta-ta-ta-ta-ta,” Patricia clicked her tongue disapprovingly, placing her hand on Abby’s throat and guiding her to lie back down.

Abby looked down and noticed that she was without most of her clothes— only her bra and panties appeared to be covering her. Even if Patricia had not pushed her back, Abby would have been compelled to recline. Her head pounded as soon as it left the surface of the table in which she was sprawled, immediately feeling heavy like a lead balloon. Her vision blurred somewhat again as her head bobbed backward while she lied down.

Patricia followed Abby’s movement, never removing her hand from her neck until she was fully flat against the table again. Abby’s eyes rolled as she fought to remain alert despite her body telling her that she needed to close her eyes and sleep. Her body felt heavy and light at the same time. She couldn’t move but felt like she was floating above the surface on which she laid. The room around her spun in circles, with the only constant being Patricia. It nauseated her.

Patricia leaned in closer, studying Abby’s face and keeping her hand and fingers gripped lightly against her throat. “You didn’t actually think that you could outsmart us, did you?”

Abby, ignoring her question, tried to turn her head to the side in an attempt to get away from Patricia. She mumbled but couldn’t speak. It took too much energy. Her breathing was shaky and her heart thudded fiercely against her chest, echoing in her own ears and worsening the hammering in her head.

Patricia cocked her head to the side and examined Abby’s face and lack of response. She had gotten nearly all of the mud and blood off of Abby’s skin. With her head turned to the side, though, she noticed that there was still caked on dirt under her ear. Typically this didn’t bother her, but for some reason, it did. It angered her.

Trying her best to remain composed, Patricia returned to her task of cleaning Abby.

“You muddied all of your clothes when you took off running through those woods,” Patricia stated as if reprimanding a child, soaking and wringing the cloth again and roughly scrubbing at the mess on Abby’s neck. “They are completely soaked.”

Abby gulped and tried to regulate her breathing, to show Patricia that she wasn’t afraid. But she was. She was terrified. Her body shivered and shook, partly from the chill of having little covering her and partly due to fear.

Patricia’s eyes wandered across Abby’s body. She was clean and beautiful, even with the cut on the side of her head. Her breasts visibly moved with every rapid breath she took and exhaled. Her hips appeared wider as she laid on the table, accentuating the pear figure that Patricia lacked. She could never offer Dennis what Abby could. Patricia would never admit to being jealous of Abby. Not of her having a womanly figure, not of her being able to mother a child… The more she thought about it, the more resentful she felt.

Patricia gracefully grazed her fingertips across Abby’s forehead and stroked her hair back a few times. She didn’t even have her own hair to be able to do this herself, let alone allow someone else to do it. Her delicate strokes became slower as she thought through all of the things that she could never have. She gripped Abby’s hair tightly and pulled her head back softly, surprisingly softly considering the anger and hatred and resentment she harbored.

Abby had no energy to resist. She made eye contact with Patricia. Both had tears in their eyes, but for much different reasons.

“I told you,” Patricia started slowly but calmly, “that if you hurt him, I would break you like a twig. Do you remember that?”

Abby gulped and tried to regulate her breathing, to show Patricia that she wasn’t afraid. But she was. She was terrified. Her body shivered and shook as if she were freezing, but at this point, it wasn’t the temperature’s doing.

“And yet,” Patricia sighed, releasing her grip and dragging her fingers across Abby’s forehead to brush away the few remaining matted strands of hair, “you still hurt him. Didn’t you?” She waited for a response but grew angry when her question was met with silence. “Didn’t you?!” she shouted, gripping Abby’s cheeks between her thumb and fingers.

The deafening shout was more than Abby could bear. The pressure in her head squeezed at her temples and pulled at the contents left in her stomach— which wasn’t much, due to the events that happened earlier that night. She felt the burning liquid rise in her throat and grimaced when she swallowed it back down.

“Ahhhhnnnn,” Patricia grunted and forcefully pushed Abby’s face as she released her grasp while simultaneously slamming the palm of her other hand against the flat wooden surface.

Patricia paced the length of the table, back and forth, back and forth, torn between what she wanted to do and how Dennis and the others would react. On one hand, if she killed Abby, she could finally put an end to this exhausting cat and mouse scenario and give Dennis a chance to move on…for them all to move on. She could return to being the number one woman in their lives. On the other hand, however, Dennis might not ever forgive her, and he’d be even more lost than what he already is. One thing was for certain though: Abby was going to be the downfall of them all.

Abby tried to sit up to no avail. Her head felt too heavy. Instead, she struggled to roll onto her side. Without even thinking, Patricia reacted. She stomped around the table and fiercely grabbed Abby’s hair, dragging her off the table. Abby wrapped her fingers around Patricia’s wrists to try and steady herself and relieve the ripping pain on her scalp. Her hip caught against the top of the chair that had been pushed into the end of the table. It dragged across the floor for a few inches before it tipped over beneath her weight. Her feet hit the ground with a heavy _thud_. Patricia pulled Abby’s head back and brought her close against her to keep her erect.

“Look at me,” Patricia gritted her teeth.

Abby had a difficult time holding her body up. She felt sick. She felt tired. She felt weak.

“Look at me,” Patricia repeated. This time she didn’t sound angry. This time, she sounded hurt. She sounded broken.

Abby shifted her eyes to look at Patricia, her neck extended backward as she looked up at the man whose personalities changed like the hands on a clock. Patricia’s jaw was tense, but her arms were just as muscular and strong as Dennis’s.

“Why?” Patricia asked. Tears formed in her eyes. She fought to keep them from falling, but it was no use. They pooled at the lower lids of her eyes and eventually streamed down her cheeks. Abby stared, not sure how to respond. “They’re all I have,” Patricia whispered sadly, the pain evident in her eyes. “I must protect them.”

Abby didn’t understand. Patricia went from calm to angry to sad faster than Abby could comprehend the changes. This didn’t seem like the Patricia that Abby had been used to seeing. Patricia was always the collected, calculating one.

“They are going to be so angry with me,” Patricia widened her eyes and started to shake her head, “but I have to protect them… I have to protect them from you.”

Patricia lowered Abby to the floor gently and released her completely once she was down. Fearful of what Patricia meant, Abby tried to crawl away as Patricia stepped over her to retrieve a knife from the block that sat on the countertop. Abby’s arms were wobbly and could not support her weight. She struggled to push herself with her legs. Her hands slapped against the dirty wooden floor as she wriggled her body like an inchworm. She had gotten only four paces before Patricia stepped over her again, her feet on either side of Abby’s body.

“I am...” Patricia paused with the knife in hand, “so sorry.”

Abby knew that she couldn’t possibly be apologizing to her.

She felt Patricia’s hand lift her chin from behind and bring the blade against her skin. Abby closed her eyes tightly and whimpered, not knowing how badly this was going to hurt before it all ended.

_Knock knock knock knock knock._

Patricia sprang up, alert and caught off guard at the sudden knock at the door. She stood still. She was quiet and listened, thinking that maybe perhaps it was just her mind playing tricks on her. But, again, she heard it.

_Knock knock knock knock knock._

“Who is it?” Patricia called out.

“Police,” a deep voice responded from beyond the front door.

Dennis came into the light and internally panicked. He looked down at his hand and saw the knife, with Abby lying still beneath him. He dropped the knife and knelt to the floor, rolling Abby over, terrified of what he would find.

“Abby,” he whispered, frightened that she wouldn’t respond.

Her eyes were closed and her body was limp. Her exposed skin turned him on, although in this moment he knew that it shouldn’t. He shook the thoughts from his head and averted his gaze to her face.

“Abby,” he whispered again, tapping her cheek with his fingertips.

She groaned in response. She was alive.

He sighed in relief, never being so nervous in his life. He was strong and disciplined. He could do this.

“Sir?” the policeman called out from the other side of the door when he heard no response after his initial knocks.

“Uh,” Dennis looked around, “just a second.”

The cabin was so small and void of any large pieces of furniture to hide Abby behind temporarily. Because the door opened to the right, he could carry Abby to the far right corner of the room. She would be out of sight behind the door. There was no need for the officer to come inside. He would never see her. Dennis effortlessly carried Abby in his arms and gently laid her on the floor in the far corner of the cabin.

When he reached the door, he looked back over at Abby. She was barely conscious on the floor: motionless, quiet, and still beautiful. Nervously, Dennis rubbed the corners of his mouth with his hands and dragged his hands to the top of his head and back down, grabbing at the base of his scalp. He took in a breath and opened the door. He did his best to look innocent and genuinely confused as to why the police were here.

“Hi,” Dennis greeted the uniformed man with narrowed eyes. “Sorry, I needed to find my shirt.”

The rain had eased a bit. A light mist swept through the trees, remnants of that night’s rain falling in the wind from the leaves. The police officer shined his flashlight at Dennis’s face. Dennis squinted and protectively shielded his eyes from the harsh light.

“How are you doing this evening?” the officer made small talk, lowering the light. He was a tall man, clean-shaven with crow’s feet at the corners of his eyes showing years of service-work. A plastic cover protected his police hat from the weather.

“I’m fine,” Dennis responded shortly. “What, uh,” he stammered a bit, “what can I do for you, officer?”

“We received a call,” the officer stated, seemingly trying to glance past Dennis to peek inside the cabin. It was too dark to see anything, and Dennis did a good job at shielding the inside with the door and his body. “Tell me sir, have you heard anything tonight in these woods?”

The corners of Dennis’s mouth lowered into a confused frown. “Heard anything,” he repeated. “Like what?”

“We received report of what sounded like a woman screaming,” the officer stated, again shining the light towards Dennis and trying to look inside. Dennis pushed against the door slightly, subtly inching it towards being closed.

“Screaming?” Dennis shook his head and calmly repeated with a questioning tone. “No, I haven’t heard anything.”

The officer nodded his head as he studied Dennis’s reaction.

“Is it just you here, sir?” the officer asked.

“Uh, yeah,” Dennis nodded. “I like to come up here to relax. It’s good to take a break from the old ball and chain every once in a while, ya know?” he smiled and tried to play a role of which he knew nothing about.

The officer nodded his head but seemed like he wasn’t buying it.

“Would you mind if I come inside?” the officer asked.

Dennis’s grip tightened on the doorknob on the inside of the door.

“What for?” Dennis asked, doing his best to keep calm.

“Just to have a look around,” the officer answered honestly, shrugging his shoulder as if this was the standard protocol and nothing to be worried about.

“Yeah,” Dennis said. The officer took a step forward as if invited, and Dennis quickly corrected, “I mean, yeah, I mind.”

The officer stopped and stared at Dennis, waiting for an explanation.

Dennis leaned backward and turned his head to glance at Abby. She lay motionless on the floor except for the tiny rises and falls of her chest while breathing. Dennis sighed as he heard Patricia tell him what to say.

“Look,” Dennis sighed and acted embarrassed. “I’m not alone,” he said, causing the officer to raise his eyebrows. “I don’t come here to necessarily get away from my wife,” he lied, “so much as I do it to spend time with my girlfriend.” The officer cocked a half-smile as Dennis continued the fabrication. “I didn’t just need to put a shirt on to answer the door, if you know what I’m saying.”

The officer, embarrassed himself, blushed and nodded his head with a chuckle. Dennis chuckled along with him, playing his part.

“I see,” the officer scratched his nose and looked away, embarrassed and amused. “So, uh,” he bobbed his head to the side and asked, “what happened to your vehicle, Misterrrrrrr...?”

_Shit. What was the name on that sign out front… Mil… Mil…_

“Uh,” Dennis looked at the SUV. _Shit. The window was busted out of it._ “Miller… and, uh,” Dennis thought for a second, gripping the knob tightly and running his hand over his buzzed hair, rubbing the back of his neck. “When we were out to dinner, our car got broken into. Stole my wallet. I realized when I went to pay that I didn’t have my wallet on me, so I went out to the car thinking I must have left it on the seat, and found the car like that.”

“Did you drive?” the officer asked.

“Yeah.”

The officer nodded his head. “So, I don’t suppose you have any identification on you. It was…”

“In the wallet,” both Dennis and the officer said simultaneously.

“Right,” the officer nodded and licked his lips, staring at Dennis for an uncomfortable amount of time.

“Where did you eat?” the officer asked.

Dennis smirked and cocked his head. “I’m sorry, have I done something wrong?”

The officer shook his head. “Just curious,” he said and waited for a response.

 _“He knows you’re lying,”_ Patricia informed Dennis.

 _“Mithter Dennith,”_ Hedwig chimed in, but Patricia interrupted him.

 _”Get rid of him,”_ Patricia warned.

“I don’t remember the name of the place,” Dennis stated curtly. “It was a few hours away. We’re not from around here.”

”Hmm,” the officer laughed beneath his breath. “Funny,” he grinned, “that the wallet was on the driver’s side seat, and it’s the passenger side window that was busted out.”

 _“Tell him, it’th becauthe that’th the thide of the car that wath fathing away from the rethtaurant. The robber wouldn’t be theen on the pathenger thide, but he’d be theen on the driver thide. Tell him!”_ Hedwig said excitedly.

“Yeah,” Dennis agreed, “I guess it’s probably because that’s the side of the car that was more hidden from view.”

 _“Very impressive, Hedwig,”_ Patricia offered praise, causing Hedwig to beam on the inside.

The officer, not fully convinced or satisfied with this interaction, but understanding he could not force his way in on mere suspicious behavior and stories, nodded his head.

“Right,” he said. “Well,” he paused, listening for any distant shouts that could be coming from behind a closed door or a basement. However, he heard nothing. Not even the calling of a woman asking who was at the door or pleading with her lover to come back to bed. “You folks enjoy the rest of your evening, and if you hear anything…”

“I know the number,” Dennis nodded and offered a fake smile, glad to be getting rid of the unwanted visitor.

The officer turned around and walked back to his police cruiser, turning his head for a final look approximately half-way to the car. Dennis closed the door when he saw the officer turn his head, wanting no further invitations for more questions. His heartrate accelerated at such a close call. He didn’t want to have to kill a man… but he would.

The officer got into his car and closed the door. He removed his hat and placed it on the seat next to him, rubbing his head to smooth his salt and pepper hair. He started the car and placed his hands on the steering wheel, remaining completely still for a few seconds as he thought. There was something about this guy that didn’t sit right with him. He was hiding something, but what proof did he have? He looked at the SUV parked in front of him. Aside from the broken window, nothing else seemed suspect about the vehicle. The license plate was from out of state. At least that much seemed to be true: he wasn’t from around here. It was late… he could have eaten dinner elsewhere… on the road for a romantic getaway with his mistress… from Pennsylvania… He supposed that the story could be plausible. But, in his 17 years of service, he had learned to trust his gut, and boy, was his gut doing some talking right now.

He put the car in reverse and began his drive back down the narrow lane. The car and cabin became smaller as the distance grew between them. Finally, the officer made it to the end of the driveway and stopped his vehicle to look both ways before backing out onto the main road. As he removed his foot from the brake to enter the vacant roadway, he noticed the sign at the beginning of the property. _Camp Milton._

The officer backed his car out onto the road and slowly began to drive away. When he was approximately 100 yards away, he pulled onto a large spot of dirt and gravel at the side of the road and turned off the lights. “Milton,” the officer spoke aloud to himself. “Milton, not Miller.” He knew it. There was something wrong here. He sat for a second, arguing with himself. He knew that he wasn’t supposed to run plates without reason, but he could not get that interaction out of his mind. His photographic memory was impeccable, and he could not stop his fingers from typing the information that was flashing in his mind. As he waited for the information to come up on his screen, he checked his rearview mirror. Nothing, as far as the eye could see. When he looked back at the information on the screen, he knew that, once again, his gut had served him right.

He fumbled for the radio. “David-two-four,” he called and waited for a response from dispatch.


End file.
